Same problem, Different faces
by SolitaryPoison
Summary: HPLG SLASH. Voldemort is dead, but the past lingers in Harry's mind and he finds it hard to let go. A new world, a new war and revelations of a time he no longer remembers. Life always seems to get harder. But someone might finally get through
1. Darkness

Disclaimer: I own nothing blah blah blah

Warnings: Death, Torture, Slash, rating may change

A/N: Revised, along with whole story. I was 13 when I started writing this. I am 17 now. Hopefully I have a better grasp of plot and generally technique than before, and will gain inspiration from looking over this.

_Darkness_

_It wrapped around him, suffocating, blinding him. He tried to breath, to scream, anything to break free of the bindings that held him but terror clawed at his heart, paralysing him. He stopped the relentless fight to get free, calmed himself, and started to think. He hadn't had years of training to forget it when it was of use! He brought his hands together to test the restraints on the other and felt … nothing._

Harry Potter woke up with a start, gasping for breath, his bed covers clenched in his fists. He hated the dreams that came most nights, dreams of the war, of things he would much rather forget. They seemed so real, and sometimes he woke up thinking he was back there, chained to the wall in the dark Lord's dungeon, slaughtering death eaters on the battle field, sobbing and shivering as he collapsed next to the bleeding body of another friend. He looked around his room, searching for reassurance from the familiarity but found none.

This was not his room.

Harry nearly laughed at the absurdity of that thought. How could this not be his room? He had been in his dormitory at Hogwarts; no one could be taken out of there by force, they had learned that during the war. Many times Voldemort had tried to take Harry straight out of Hogwarts and every time he failed, so why was it Harry was seeing a beautiful, mostly white room bathed in sunlight rather than the red and gold bed hangings he had grown accustomed to seeing as he awoke?

Not knowing whether he was safe or not Harry sat up straight and put his hands out, palms upwards, in front of him. Grasping the image in his mind Harry pulled it towards him, imbuing it with his magic and a few seconds later the sword of Godric Gryfindor lay across his palms. Dumbledore had bound the sword to him at the beginning of the war; a way to make sure that no matter what Harry always had access to a weapon.

"How did you do that?"

Harry shot out of the bed, sword in hand, to face the speaker and was met with four faces staring back at him. He grasped the sword handle tighter, flexing his fingers so the grip was more comfortable, giving him more control. His eyes quickly flicked over the figures watching him, assessing them, as he crouched low in a defensive stance, muscles taunt and ready to spring if the situation called for it.

The four beings were also tense, though far less obvious about it, and to a smaller degree. They outnumbered him, and it was not presumptuous to assume that they were familiar with their surrounding, giving them the advantage. They did not, however, look likely to attack without provocation, so Harry relaxed a little.

"Relax," A dark haired, stern looking man with… pointy ears, said. "We will not harm you without reason."

"And what counts as reason?" Harry asked, not moving from his position on the ground.

"Any attempt to harm those residing in this house, and evidence of consorting with the enemy."

The enemy?, Harry thought. Voldemort is dead. What other enemy is there? There were very few Death Eaters left roaming free, and they had not the strength nor the courage to confront Harry. And anyway, he was the Boy-Who-Lived. Who would suspect him of consorting with Death Eaters? He felt a slight tingling in his mind, than a silky voice spoke, to his ears only.

_This is not your world… master… Their enemy is not yet yours…_

Not his world? That really didn't sound good.

"Where am I?" Harry asked, voice betraying none of his nervousness, or the small trickle of fear in his mind. He was in an unknown place with no allies. All were potential enemies.

"Rivendell." The pointy-eared man answered.

"And where is that?"

He registered the shock on their faces. All except one, an old man, grey hair and beard, holding what looked to be a staff. He seemed more intrigued than shocked.

"Middle Earth."

Middle Earth? Harry decided not to ask. If he was truly in another world it wouldn't help any way. He just hoped that since it bore the name 'Earth' it would have enough similarities to make it possible for him to survive.

"Any idea how I got here?"

A different man, still with pointy ears, but blond, answered this time. These people could only be elves. History books told of no other peoples that held such grace and majesty in their bearing. This was certainly something to tell Hermi- , well, something to remember.

"No. We were hoping you could tell us. It is not often strangers come to Rivendell so suddenly and unannounced. Perhaps some urgent quest drove you here, along with many others arriving, or perhaps you have other, less worthy motives…"

"Glorfindel..."

The name was said softly, but stern. Glorfindel bowed his head minutely.

"I apologise, dark times are coming, and we must be suspicious of all. The virtue of all who enter this realm must be certain."

Surprising them, Harry nodded, and though he kept the sword clutched in his hand, he stood up straighter.

"I understand. My own experiences have taught me as such. But who is this enemy you speak of, for I am not from these parts and have heard only rumours whispered in the dark of an evil greater than that before it?"

The truth, Harry decided, was always better than a lie. Of course, it wasn't the complete truth, embellished and manipulated as it was, but he would not then be caught out by inconsistencies and forgetfulness.

"The enemy?" This from a man, dark haired flecked with grey, tall and proud of bearing. "The enemy comes from the shadow land of Mordor, and its Lord is Sauron. War is on the horizon, and you must have come from far, far away in sheltered lands to be untroubled by this."

Harry resisted the urge to scream his frustration. Was there nowhere free from corruption and war? For truly, he was sick of fighting, sick of running and hiding and lying. His war was over. He had almost had peace, he deserved peace! Peace, at least, fram battle, if not from his own past and mind.

But now he was forced yet again to create a false past, in what could become a perilous situation. And all he really wanted was to go home, and mourn his life in peace.


	2. Council

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Same as everyone else.

Warnings: As before

This contains some info on the war etc for those that don't know it. For those that do it may be a bit boring. Some of it I've taken straight from the book.

2 weeks. 2 weeks since he'd woken in a world not his own. A world filled with Elves and Dwarves, mere stories back on Earth. A world filled with Orcs and Demons, with the same evil that seemed to exist no matter where you went. Only here, unlike Earth where the war had just ended, the terror was about to begin. How many more had to be killed? How many more before the gods were satisfied?

Harry sighed as looked out of the window onto the picturesque landscape. It was like a fairytale. The sun was shining on lush green trees as clear blue water cascaded down the riverbed. Nothing hinted at the perils that lay beyond the borders, just watching, waiting for the chance to strike. No, Rivendell was in a world of its own. It wouldn't be for much longer.

After the questions of who he was, how did he get there, to which Harry had given vague answers at best, and pure lies at worst, he had heard tell of the Dark Lord Sauron. He had nearly conquered Middle Earth on his first rise to power but was stopped by the combined efforts of the different peoples of Middle Earth, in a battle the scaleof which transcended any that Harry had seen before. Now he was back and his realm of Mordor was once again filled with orcs and trolls and other foul creatures. And this time Elves and men were divided, the numbers of elves slowly dwindling, and the strength of man failing, their history slowly becoming little more than myth. The chance that Sauron would win the war, plunging the world into a darkness the likes of which was unimaginable, was in everyones mind; none could deny that, so far, it was the most likely possibility. Only one thing had stopped him already doing so. The ring of power.

Now being a stranger in this land, this was not something that the people of Rivendell would have readily told him. But their guests, a group of Hobbits, had taken a liking to him, and the youngest was perilously free with his words. So it was that by a slip of Pippins tongue Harry learned of the greatest weapon of Middle Earth, a plain, gold ring that could turn the tide in the favour of whichever side held it.

A bell rang loudly, startling Harry out of his thoughts, and he quickly made his way outside.

The council was about to begin.

Harry wasn't sure why he had been invited to attend. He wasn't sure why he'd agreed either. By Merlin, he had attended enough war councils to last him a lifetime. But there was something, something unexplainable, inexplicable, which was telling him to go, to listen and watch and learn. And through all the questions in his head, the shadows stayed silent.

Harry listened carefully to the all that was said in the meeting, knowing that if he wanted to survive he had to know more about the state of this world and it people. It did not look good. Reports were given of orcs moving, answering their lord's call and doing his bidding, and the ring wraiths had been seen abroad for the first time since Saurons defeat. The shadows were stirring. He could feel it, hear it. On Earth they had done so when Voldemort had been planning and strengthening his army. Here they did the same. The darkness called, and they listened.

Harry stealthily observed the others at the council, trying to remember the names and faces. Elrond, lord of Rivendell, was whom they had all come to see; seeking reassurance they could and would not be given. Gloin and his son Gimli, two stout dwarves with long hair and beards, came on behalf of their race. The hobbits Frodo and his uncle Bilbo were there seated with members of Elrond's house. Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor had rode for days to find counsel and Aragorn son of Arathorn, a Ranger of the North had arrived with Frodo and his friends.

But it was not them who caught his eye.

It took all Harry's training to stop him staring at the being that sat on the opposite side of the circle. An elf he was obviously, no other creatures were that beautiful, but he was not from Rivendell. _Legolas_, Harry recalled from his memory, _son of King Thranduil from Mirkwood._ Certainly he had the proud bearing of a prince. Blond hair fell down his back framing his chiseled features. Deep eyes sparkled with intelligence and Harry thought he had never seen eyes so blue. He shook his head, drawing some strange looks, and mentally berated himself. This was not the time to be distracted, especially not by some pretty face. Harry knew better, he had learnt that lesson the hard way.

Then he felt it.

Evil. It surrounded him, suffocating, thick and pulsing and he could barely breath. He stood up and backed away, trying to clear his mind of the hatrid and malice and unbearable malignance that was pulling him under. He searched for the source desperately. Then he saw it. The thing he'd missed when he was so deep in thought. The ring. It had been placed on a tall stone in the centre of the council and was glinting malevolently in the sunlight, mocking them.

"Harry?" Elrond was looking at him, as was the rest of the council, concerned and curious. "What is wrong?" Harry stared at him.

"Do you not feel it? Do you not feel the evil that is contained in that ring?" He looked at Frodo. "How can you stand to touch it?" Frodo peered at him puzzled.

"I feel nothing. Except sometimes the slightest hint of possessiveness. Does it not call to you?" Harry shook his head

"If anything it's telling me to stay away." He garnered strang looks,a nd gathered that this was not the usual reaction to the dark object. Perhaps he should have said nothing? Regardless, it was now too late, and a natural resistance to the rings allure could only be considered useful

The council continued and they reached the conclusion that the ring must be destroyed in the volcano in which it was made. Harry assumed this was far easier said than done, as these things always are, and the council descended into arguments and blame, before through the noise he heard it: "I will take it." Everyone turned to look at Frodo. "I will take the ring to Mordor, though I do not know the way." And so the ring bearer was chosen. Yet Harry could well understand the turmoil the Hobbit must feel, the call of duty mixed with fear. He wanted to tell him no. To return home to his little Shire and his peaceful life, and leave these dark days to elders more equipped to understand them. But he could not, for he himself would not listen. Some people were just meant to do these things.

Harry, however, still had a dilemma. Should he go with them? An absurd thought perhaps, considering he didn't know his world, this Middle Earth, and it would also likely lead to them finding out he was a wizard, something he has neglected to tell them. They thought he could only summon the sword that was strapped to him, by some old family ritual he informed them he did not himself understand. But it would certainly make things more…interesting. Harry never had been one to sit around wile others fought. He hated the helpless, useless feeling that accompanied the waiting that was inevitable when you were left behind. And sitting in this hidden haven was unlikely to lead him to his route home. There were other beings he may encounter, other knowledge he might procure, that could hold the answers to this unexpected divergence from his life.

But by Merlin, he had had enough of war. Enough to last him five lifetimes. The final battle had been a few months ago, three months, 12 weeks, seventy two days. Every night he was haunted by red seas and blackened lands, mutilated corpses with beseeching hands that begged. Cracked necks, pieced hearts, slit wrists. Suicide accounted for a fifth of the death toll, contributed to from either side. The true curse of true love, when you can't live without the other. Harry hadn't succumbed to the desire of death that still lingered in his heart. And maybe, just maybe, a new war would make him forget the old. A war where he had no friends to lose, no lover to be betrayed by, no one specifically relying on him. Nothing but power and distraction and new beginnings.

And why else had he been brought here, what other purpose would he serve?

"I too will help you on your quest Frodo," said Harry, "If you will have me?"

Frodo studied him a small smile on his face before answering. "I was hoping you would come. Somehow I feel as though we will need you. Maybe that was why you came to be here?" Harry just smiled.

And so it was decided. Frodo, Harry, Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli, Boromir, Gandalf and Frodo's friends Sam, Merry and Pippin would take the ring to Mordor. None could forget, however, that often the greatest treacheries, as proved by Saruman, were from those closest to you. And being the one no one knew anything about meant that, for Harry, life was about to get harder. He considered, however, that he didn't particularly trust them either, so he supposed it evened out.

But he still sighed heavily.

No one ever said it would be easy. But no one ever said it would be so bloody difficult all the time either.


	3. Caradhras

Disclaimer: I own nothing and there is no point sewing me coz I don't even have access to my bank account! A/N: Revising this years later, I now do have access to my bank account but still, alas, no money.

Warnings: S'pose slash may be a warning but I put it on the summary and on the last chapter so if you don't like it and are still here, that's kinda your problem, not mine.

Harry pulled his cloak tighter around his body. The wind was blowing violently, and the snow was freezing. He had managed to put a minor heating charm on the company without anyone taking particular note, so it was not as bad as it should have been. Yet how to survive blistering conditions climbing up a treacherous mountain had somehow been neglected from his training. He supposed that this may have been due to the general lack of mountains in the majority of the United Kingdom, but still, he was meant to have been prepared for any eventuality.

The hobbits found it the hardest. They were not used to snow of any level and the wind kept blowing them over. Sam would have fallen off the mountain if Boromir hadn't grabbed him! Though if Harry was honest with himself, he rather enjoyed not being the smallest in a group.

Harry frowned as he thought. He didn't trust Boromir, not in the least. It wasn't that he thought he worked for Sauron but…He had noticed things. The side glances the Gondorian shot at Frodo, the look in his eyes when he saw the ring, his reluctance to return it to the Ringbearer. Harry remembered the views expressed at the council, and understood somewhat the pressure Boromir was under, his duty to his people. But living in a war zone had taught Harry to always expect the worse. It was usually the worse that happened.

He looked at the group huddled around the fire Gandalf had made. He had, of course, been invited to sit with them. But he wouldn't. They didn't trust him. Everything he did was looked on with suspicion by all but Frodo and Gandalf. He couldn't blame them, he would be suspicious if someone just appeared in the Forbidden Forest, but it was rather aggravating. So he had decided to spend as little time with them as possible, focusing instead on his control, and reiterating to himself what he had learned about this world. Anyway, he was used to being on his own, had spent 5 months with no one but _them _around. And there was no way in hell he would talk to them, so he'd spent the time in silent defiance, uttering no words. He did not, personally, include screaming.

Anyway, Harry couldn't say he trusted all of them, was no less wary then when he had first entered this world. The hobbits he sensed were trustworthy, their childish antics and love of simple things endearing to him, and Gandalf had Dumbledore's bearing, old and wise. Gimli was friendly enough between his proud and gruff extereior, but Aragorn, though cordial, was hiding something. His presence was not that of a simple wanderer. And Legolas…Legolas was as all elves, knowledgeable and proud, with a love of all things growing. The pointless enmity between he and Gimli was one of Harry's few sources of amusement, and his natural grace something one could not help but admire. He and Harry had spoke little, but the words said were rarely meaningless, even if they were presented in riddles and vagueness.

Harry stroked the hilt of his sword; glad for the familiar comfort it gave. For the past two years his sword had barely left his side. It had felt the blood of his enemies, but also of those he loved, those who had betrayed him in the end. A constant reminder of the casualties of the war, both in body and heart. Few had yet recovered from the horrors Voldemort had caused, and Harry…Harry couldn't even begin to imagine a day when he awoke without melancholic thoughts weighing him down, or a night without monsters in his head. He was not who he had been before these things. No longer ruled by his heart, only to have it broken again and again. He had grown tired of trusting people so explicitly that when they betrayed him, they took a piece of his soul with them. The war had left him far more jaded then he could have ever imagined.

"Hi." Frodo was walking towards Harry, smiling slightly despite shivering. They had all learnt to announce their arrival before they got to the newcomer. Though it was extremely unlikely someone could actually sneak up on him: when Legolas had attempted it he had found himself with a sword point at his throat. Needless to say they had all learnt a lesson there.

"Hey." Harry answered, also endeavoring to smile slightly- though he was aware it probably appeared more as a pained grimace. He almost enjoyed the polite talk he share with the hobbit, and so did not wish to isolate the only person who really talked to him. "Are you alright?" The hobbit was trembling violently now and Harry felt a flash of anger towards Gandalf. The hobbits would not survive much more of this, that much was obvious. There must be another way.

"Just a bit cold." Frodo sighed. Harry snorted.

"A bit? Rather good at understating aren't you?" Frodo shrugged.

"There's no point in complaining about something you can't change."

Harry smiled a little more- such simple yet wise comments were common from the ringbearer. Yet knowing that Frodo was likely suffering far more than he was showing, Harry had a dilemma. He could let the hobbit suffer and maybe freeze to death or he could upgrade the warming charm. Yet the spell had to be cast pointed at the heart, which was, Harry concluded, rather difficult to do without him noticing.

"Do you trust me?" He asked. Frodo considered for a few seconds before answering surely, "Yes I do."

"You swear you won't tell anyone about what I'm about to do?"

"I swear." Frodo said, a bit confused.

"Good. Stand still." Harry told him.

"Wha-"

Harry pointed his wand, formerly tucked up his sleeve, at Frodo's heart and murmured the spell. Instantly warmth spread through his body, a welcome relief from the blistering cold. Harry laughed lightly at the look of wonder on Frodo's face and put his wand back into its wrist holder.

"How?" Frodo asked astounded, quite obviously in awe at the display of magic. Harry just gave him a small, enigmatic grin.

"That's for me to know, and you, maybe, to find out!"

It got colder every day. The chill seeping through skin into bones, running through arteries and veins to get to every part of the body. The only ones who didn't seem to be too affected were Frodo and Harry. Harry, obviously, wasn't telling and Frodo couldn't, even if he had wanted to. Just in case, Harry had cast a secrecy spell on the hobbit. It was impossible for him to talk or write about what Harry had done. Harry was long past relying on the good will and trust of strangers, no matter how benign they appeared. He had taken a calculated risk, and given the hobbit a test of sorts. He would know if Frodo attempted to speak of his power to anyone else and, as such, would know he was untrustworthy.

Yet Harry found himself getting bored on the expedition. The thought almost made him laugh. He was on a quest to destroy something that could bring an evil dark lord into power and he was bored. But then all they did was walk and freeze and walk and freeze. They stopped twice a day to eat but only stopped a few hours to sleep. For most of them it was far to cold to sleep in. For others their thoughts were far to troubled.

Harry didn't sleep. It was many, many months since he had slept unaided and he had no dreamless sleep potion with him now. Even if he had, it didn't always work. Some demons are just far too strong. He had taken it the night he appeared in Rivendell but he still dreamt, still dreamt of when he…when they…when it…

"NO!" He shouted. Though he was too far ahead for anyone to hear. He wouldn't think of it, couldn't think of it. He wouldn't let it drag him under, not now, not again. What Harry wasn't aware of were the blue eyes watching him, taking in the stiffness of his form, the despair that radiated off him when he let his guard down.

All Elves were minorly emphatic, more tuned in to the emotions of those around them. But never had he felt such pain, such despair, as he did then. What could cause someone so young to feel such things? Harry's feelings were old and strong, not tempered by hope or happiness. Legolas shivered and turned away.

"Legolas? Legolas are you okay?" Aragorn asked him worriedly.

"So much pain." The elf whispered, dazed.

"Who?" Frodo enquired.

"Harry." He answered, coming back to himself. "So much pain bottled up inside. I don't see how he stands it."

"Practice probably." Said Gandalf. "Too much practice."

Suddenly, a foul voice could be heard in the air. "Saruman!" Gandalf exclaimed. "He's trying to bring the mountain down on us" The wizard strode forward chanting as Harry rushed over. "Get as far away from the edge as you can, otherwise you run the risk of getting pushed off the mountain if there is an avalanche."

The group, for once, did what Harry said without question, recognising the wisdom in his words. And as they huddled together in a group a crack was heard and the mountaintop fell.


	4. Memories

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to J.K and her people or J.R. and his people

Warnings: Same as before and child abuse.

_Italics:_ Flashback

Harry closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. The smoke from the cigarette filled his senses, and for a moment he lost himself in the smell. But only for a moment. He stumped the cigarette out, feeling a momentary pang of loss, and made his way back to the camp.

It was three days since they had left the mountain of Caradhras and they were lucky they had managed to at all. If it hadn't been for the warming spell Harry had put on Frodo the fellowship most likely would have frozen to death. As it was the spell had melted the snow a little, making it easier to burrow through. Harry himself had lived through worse things then getting buried alive by snow.

After Gandalf had reluctantly agreed to take them to the mines of Moria the group had been a mixture of tense and excited. From what he had heard there were many rumours about the place, the majority, as was his luck, exceedingly sinister.. Gimli didn't seem to be worried at all, however, but considering it was his kind that resided there it wasn't surprising.

"It's not good to spend so much time alone." A soft voice murmured.

"_I…I'm…s…s…sorry." He chocked out through his sobs, his small body convulsing. He huddled alone in the corner of the cupboard under the stairs, his knees drawn up to his chin, rocking back and forth, back and forth. " I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" He repeated the mantra over and over. Maybe if he repeated it enough his uncle would believe him. The vibration of the ground beneath him as something very large stomped down the hallway smashed that notion to pieces._

"_Trying to hide you little freak? How dare you think you can hide from me!"_

"_I…I wasn't h…hiding un…uncle." He whispered trembling. Harry cried out as a hand smacked his face, flinging his head back into the wall, blood starting to drip down. "Liar! That's what you are. A lying dirty little freak, just like your parents!"_

"_The…they weren't." He whispered weakly._

"_What?" His 'uncle' asked, shocked._

"_They…they weren't freaks." _

"_How would you know?" Vernon sneered._

"_Because I remember." Harry said, his eyes holding a glint of pride. "And they were better people then you will ever be." Harry gasped and drew back as a hand reached for him but he was too late. "Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Harry screamed as a hand grabbed his hair, dragging him out of his cupboard and into the hallway. He hit the ground as a fat fist slammed into his face, his cheek turning red as it scrapped along the rough carpet._

"_You are nothing Boy! NOTHING! NO ONE! You think anyone loves you? Those freak 'friends' of yours want nothing to do with you. YOUR ALONE! You'll always be alone!" Another punch to his face._

"_Always!"_

_A kick to the stomach._

"_Always."_

_A whip across his back._

"_Always."_

_And the words burned into his skin._

_Always… _

Harry hadn't heard anyone approach, a disconcerting thought, but knew that it would take a lot of practice for him to be able to hear Legolas when he wasn't tuned in to his surroundings..

"I've always been alone." He answered, with more emotion then he would have liked.

The elf walked alongside him, "No one is ever truly alone."

"_Poor little Potter is all alone" A cold laugh filled the air. "There is no one left to save you Harry. No one but me." Harry raised his head to look into the mocking red eyes. That simple action sending a shock off pain through his entire body. It took all his will power not to cry out._

"_I'd rather die then be saved by the likes of you!" He spat fiercely, before chocking violently on the blood filling his mouth. A dribble of the liquid dripped out between his ruby red lips. Voldemort smiled hauntingly and kissed him bruisingly. "That can be arranged."_

Harry shock his head sadly. "Everyone is alone."

"_Where are all your little fans now Potter? Finally realised what a fake you are?" Harry turned his head, "Piss off Malfoy."_

"_Awwww, did I hurt baby Potters feelings? Is Potter going to cry?" Malfoy snickered._

" _Leave me alone." Harry whispered, his words weak and trembling._

_Another snicker as the smirk widened. "You are actually going to cry aren't you? Some hero!"_

"_Leave me alone." A little louder this time, a little stronger._

" _Now why would I want to do that? Anyway, it's not safe to leave a baby on it's own. They get hurt so easily."_

"_Leave me alone!" Forceful this time, filled with anger, the words lashing out at the Slytherin, making him flinch back at the force of them._

" _I'll never leave you alone. Everywhere you go I'll be there, behind every corner, watching, waiting, until my master finally kills you!"_

"_LEAVE! ME! ALONE!" _

_Malfoy screamed._

_A window smashed._

_Teachers came running._

_All was silent… _

"They just don't realise it until the end."

"_Aut vincere aut mori!" Voldemort shouted to his Death Eaters before facing the boy-who-lived. "It's just you and me now Harry, just like it's always been." Harry stood strong, his head held high. "Just give in Potter, join me. You cannot win this fight and there is no one left for you if you did. All your friends have gone now Harry and you're alone, lonely and betrayed."_

"_Then there is nothing for me to gain by joining you." He answered, his voice emotionless and steady._

"_You'll gain power, status, your life." Harry laughed, a cold empty, hollow sound._

"_Power? I have power and it brought me only grief. I have status and it made my fall even harder. And my life? My life means nothing to me, its meant nothing for a long time."_

_Voldemort looked at him curiously. "You wish to die Harry?"_

"_I do not want to die." He said. "But I am not too keen on living either" _

"_But you think you will win?" Voldemort asked amused_.

"_Audaces fortuna iuvat" Harry said smirking._

"_What?" The Dark Lord snapped._

"_Fortune favours the bold."_

Legolas stopped walking to watch Harry, puzzled. "How can you stand to think like that?"

"Because it's the truth." Harry answered, stopping also.

"Only because you make it so." Legolas said sadly.

"Then how do I make it not true?" He asked whispering. "How do I feel alive again?"

"By letting someone in." The blond haired elf told him.

"I let someone in once." Harry said bitterly, "And they betrayed me more than anyone else. Believe me, that's saying something."

"Legolas wha- oh, Harry, I didn't realise you were there." Harry just shrugged dismissively. "Well, Gandalf said to tell you both that we're leaving. The youngest hobbit said cheerfully. "Thank you Pippin." Legolas said. "We were just heading back."

The journey to the Mines was not difficult, even the hobbits, unaccustomed to walking so far on foot, found it quite easy. Sarumans spies, however, seemed to be everywhere. The group had needed to hide for 15minutes as the wizards spies passed over head. After that they stayed out of the open when possible.

The fellowship was definitely in better spirits then when they had tried to climb Carahdras. They had all slept well on the journey, replenishing their strength and getting rid of the weariness that had possessed them all. Except, of course, Harry that is. He slept only when his body could run no longer, when he felt his body weigh heavier on his legs and his concentration steadily wane.

Both Frodo and Legolas had tried to get him to sleep but to no avail. He spent the nights alone, staring at the stars, so different then the ones he was used to. The most prominent loss was that of Sirius, the dog star. Every night he would watch it back home, thinking of the man who was it's name sake, or others that had been lost to Voldemort and his army.

It was the only light that shone in a sea of darkness and he missed it so. Instead he had taken to watching the brightest star, called by Legolas Caila, and found it to be as soothing as the star of Sirius. Sometimes Legolas would sit with him, telling him the names and stories of the stars, and Harry could almost fall asleep to the sound of the Elf's voice. Almost. Legolas had become his most constant companion, and he too easily allowed himself to cross from familiarity to friendship. The times he watched the elf sleeping, so calm and serene it brought a small smile to his face, he allowed his heart to wish for something more.

"But we can't leave Bill! He'll get eaten." Harry sighed as he heard Sam. It was a shame to make him part with the pony he loved so dearly but it had to be done. Bill would not like the mines. "He'll be fine." Aragorn said, trying to placate the hobbit, with little luck. "He's a smart pony. He knows his way home." Sam nodded tearfully. "Goodbye Bill." He said, hugging the pony around the neck. Aragorn stood back, letting them say their goodbyes, before stepping forward to take the harness off Bill and set him free. Harry surreptitiously cast a small defense charm around the pony. It would take more than a simple wolf to trouble his journey back.

Half an hour later Gandalf finally announced that they had arrived. Harry looked at the wall where the wizard was standing and raised an eyebrow. It just looked like a wall to him. He trusted Gandalf to know what he was doing however, so said nothing.

Then the moon crept over the treetops and slowly Harry could see symbols and letters engraved on a suddenly apparent door in the cliff face.

Gandalf read out the inscription in the common tongue, then repeated the end. "Speak friend and enter. Well that's simple. If you're a friend just speak the password and you can enter."

"Anyone know the password?" Harry asked innocently. No one spoke. "Exactly," He said. "Not so simple."

Gandalf tapped his staff against the wall and said something Harry didn't understand. Nothing happened.

He tried it again, with different words, but the results were the same.

Harry was sure he must have spoken in every language of Middle Earth before he finally sat down with a frustrated humph, his staff clattering on the ground.

Splash!

Harry looked to see the black pool of water ripple ominously, then again as Boromir threw another stone into the inky blackness. "Don't do that!" Frodo cried. "That pool scares me, leave it alone." Borimir turned back to the door, as did Frodo, but Harry watched the pool. The ripples hadn't stopped, only expanded, getting bigger and bigger. He stood sharply when he saw something move beneath the surface and was about to speak when-.

"I've got it!" Gandalf cried. "Like all riddles it is simple once you know the answer."

The wizard walked up to the door and said clearly and slowly _mellon_. The elvish word for friend, Frodo informed him. The large doors opened and Gandalf lit up his staff before stepping in. They all followed suite, except Harry.

Harry was too busy staring into the eyes of the giant beast that had risen out of the water.

A/N: 'Aut vincere aut mori' means 'either conquer or die'.


	5. A haunting past

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter so anything from there, not mine.

Warnings: Ditto

Harry called his sword and as it shimmered into his hand he ran towards the beast. He dodged quickly under a tentacle, jumping the next, trying to reach the body of the creature. It screamed as an elfish arrow struck hard into one of its tentacles and rose further out of the water.

Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli and Legolas distracted the sea monster as Harry waded through the water towards it. Distantly he heard someone scream, but it registered too late. A tentacle had already grabbed him around the waist, lifting him higher in the air. It squeezed tighter and tighter, until Harry almost passed out from loss of breath, his attempts at cutting the tentacle with his sword failing.

Then something fell out of his sleeve and instinctively Harry caught it. The long stick of wood was familiar in his hand, and filled him with the relief that he wouldn't die then and there. He raised his arm and wand, pointing it at the heart of the monster and screamed two words. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Green energy shot out of his wand heading straight to the creature. It hit. The tentacle around him turned loose and Harry fell to the floor landing with a splash in the water, narrowly avoiding getting hit by the falling limb. "Well that was fun." He muttered, not thinking anyone would hear, but as he turned he saw everyone staring at him in disbelief.

"Fun! You call that fun!" Sam said gaping. "We all could have been eaten, strangled, killed!"

Harry thought about pointing out that being eaten or strangled was being killed but decided not to bother. Then he noticed the way they were all looking at him, eyes full of suspicion or fear or both. He was glad they didn't know that casting that spell carried a death sentence in the wizarding world.

He kept his face guarded, betraying nothing as he left the water, pushing and shoving disgusting green tentacles out of the way. Deciding he was outed anyway, Harry pointed his wand at himself muttering a drying charm and a low level healing spell.

"Who are you?" Aragorn asked, "What are you?" Harry raised an eyebrow and sneered. "Somehow I don't think this is the time for my life story." He said, walking past them and into he mines. "Just know you can trust me-as much as anyone can be trusted."

The rest of the fellowship accepted this for the moment, having no real reason to suspect him of betrayal, and followed him in. Harry lit up his wand as Gandalf lit up his staff and surveyed the large room with distaste. Considering dwarves were meant to live there it was filthy.

"This isn't a mine." He heard Boromir whisper, "It's a tomb."

Harry stared into the inky blackness of the depths. He gazed into the inviting darkness, trying to ignore the call of the shadows, the whispers only he could hear. The shadows were stirring, awakening, becoming restless in the wake of a new war. And they wrapped around him, a comforting blanket, so he was shrouded in a veil of darkness.

"_Beware…" _They whispered, dancing around him. "_Beware of what lies in the mines of Moria."_

"I will beware." He told the shadows, knowing they would not lie to him, though not particularly needing the warning. Thanking them regardless, he then walked back to the group that sat around the fire, aware that he was about to face a barrage of questions. The only problem was, he didn't know if he was strong enough to handle them.

He sat down, avoiding their eyes, and ate as slow as possibly, wanting to prolong the time before he would have to tell them. But what to tell them? The truth or a lie? He had gotten good at lying over the years.

"Well?" Harry asked when he had finished.

"Who and what are you?" Aragorn asked again suspiciously.

"And do not even try to lie." Gandalf said warningly, intently watching him. "I will know."

For a few minutes Harry was silent, the familiar panic rising up in him at the thought of talking about the past, his past.

"Who and what am I?" Harry repeated, almost too himself. He laughed coldly, bitterly. "I've asked that so many times I've lost count, and no one ever seems to be able to answer." He sighed, and pain, sadness, hate and fear flooded into his eyes, almost making the others wish they hadn't asked.

"People have called me more names than I can remember. Freak, whore, bastard, scar head, dark lord, light lord, lover, friend, hero, saviour, the-boy-who-lived, defeater of the Dark lord Voldemort. But I suppose really I am just Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Potter nee Evans. I am the Lord of the Potter family, the Black family, the Gryfindor family and the Cortez family." _And some_, his mind said, _call you the Lord of the Shadows._

But that was something they didn't need to know.

"What I am? Hmmm… Foremost I am a wizard. Following that I could say I am an animagus, a parslemouth, a warrior and…I still don't know what else it is I am."

"But we don't know what any of that means." Legolas commented. "We need the story that goes with it."

"You want the story of my life?" Harry asked, extremely reluctant to tell it.

"How else do you expect us to trust you? Names we don't recognise do little to ease our suspicions."

"Well, I suppose a tale will pass the time." Harry said, after the Shadows made no move to dissuade him. "I hope you're comfortable."

And so in the darkness of the mines of Moria, with only a fire for light, Harry began the first full telling of his life. Not to say he didn't gloss over bits of course. The complete horror of his childhood remained untold but he told the rest steadily with few omissions of anything impotant and no emotion. That was until he reached his sixth year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"I started that year impossibly jaded, hating everyone and everything around me. Sirius was dead, Voldemort was openly attacking and…I was just so lost. I was falling deeper and deeper into myself and there was no one to help me. No one who could help.

So for the first time in my life I immersed myself in my classes, in my studies, trying to be the best anyone could possibly be. And I was. There was no student in Hogwarts who could best me, and few teachers. Every moment awake I trained for the times I would meet Voldemort and his Death eaters. Every moment asleep I dreamt of the horrors they committed. To others, to me.

I had few friends by the end of the year. Some left near the beginning, not wanting to risk their lives being around me. Others left when I isolated myself more and more. I barely even noticed.

People were dying daily. Men, woman, children. Muggles, squibs, muggleborns, purebloods. Whoever resisted him was marked for death. Those who weren't purebloods were usually killed whether they promised to serve him or not.

Around half way through the year Durmstrang school of magic was attacked and over two thirds of the students were killed and all of the teachers. Half of the surviving students went to Beauxbatons the other half came to Hogwarts. With them came Damien Cortez last surviving heir to one of the richest wizarding families. He made it his responsibility to bring me out of myself and for the first time in a long while I was happy. I had stupidly fallen in love.

I was more like the Harry they had known before, though I still did not strike up a conversation with anyone but Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Dean or, surprisingly, Blaise who had turned out a good friend.

For the first year at Hogwarts Voldemort did not attack me, though I did not fear it as I had before. I went to my relative's house, dreading the summer and the time away from Damien but I got through it like I always have.

Then the death eaters decided to attack directly.

I was first attacked at a Hogsmeade visit. Forty-seven students killed, one teacher, and 23 Death Eaters. I finally had a chance to put my knowledge and power to the test and I fought harder and longer than anyone else. Despite the loss of life we won that battle. I didn't notice the absence of Damien.

Attacks came fast and hard after that, anywhere and everywhere. Some we won, others we lost, but I was involved in nearly all of them having been given auror status by the ministry.

I won't say it was easy, or that I came out unscathed. The faces of those I killed-and I did kill-haunted me. Especially those I had known. Even if I hadn't known them well or liked them. Theodore Nott, Cho Chang, Harriot Dina, Oliver Wood, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, Ron Weasley. So many I can't remember their names. But it was war, and I did what had to be done.

On the last day of the Christmas holidays however, I was caught. Or tricked more like. It was Damien's birthday so we snuck out to celebrate, all laughs and smiles and love.

As soon as we left the school boundaries the death eaters were upon us. They congratulated Damien on being one of the only people able to capture me."

The fellowships were watching him with varying degrees of horror, sadness, anger, sympathy and pity. Harry's eyes had become dull and lifeless, detached from the story, and he was hugging his knees close to his chest. When he started talking again it was in the same emotionless monotone.

"Five months I spent in Voldemorts hands. Five months, two days and three hours filled with pain. So much pain. I would have begged to die, pleaded for them to kill me, to release me from the hell they called my life, from the heartache that was eating me alive from the inside out.

But I didn't. I don't know why. Maybe I knew that they would never kill me if they knew that was what I wanted, maybe I was too proud or maybe I just wanted to live to give my revenge. So for five months I barely said a word. I screamed, yes, I screamed. I screamed so loud sometimes I wished that my vocal chords would break, just so I didn't have to hear it. But they didn't break, quite obviously, and I preserved them so I had the strength to answer Voldemort back every so often. It only seemed to amuse him.

Anything that could be done they did to me, leaving me on the precipice of death, and then slowly, painfully drawing me back. Denying me the release I half longed for. But eventually, with the help of the Order's spy I escaped. Snape was killed painfully for betraying them.

I spent another month in the hospital. Time spent with healers and psychologists, ministry officials and teachers. Old friends who had abandoned me before suddenly were by my side.

I took my newts-Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests- when I went back to school, not wanting to waste all that effort I put in, and passed all with straight Os, beating even Hermione, someone who had stayed as close as possible to me, despite my attempts in 6th year to push her away.

I didn't talk about what happened, never have, and my attitude left a lot lacking, but still my close friends stayed with me. It was the death of them in the end.

Graduation day. Meant to be one of the happiest days of our young lives but it brought only blood. The last battle of the war begun but, I suppose, we were as ready as we would ever be. The first, second and third years were taken down to the dungeons for safety, the fourth years and some of the fifth years shot spells and burning arrows from the high battlements. The rest of the students fought.

Not all on our side of course, around fifty fought for Voldemort, but the rest fought with the greatest honour and courage imaginable. Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, Slytherins and Gryfindors stood side by side. A moment for the history books!

I fought in the front line, with the teachers and next to Dumbledore. And with sword and wand in hand I killed many. Including my lover."

"_Well, well, well, what do we have here?"  
_"_Harry!" Damien gasped, turning round. His eyes widened when he found himself at wand point. "Harry please don't, I love you, I love you so much, please don't do this." Harry watched him with cold curiosity.  
_"_So you're saying it's okay for you to betray me leading to five months of torture and probable death but I can't even kill you?" Damien's eyes were despairing as a tear slid down his cheek. "When did you become so cold?" He asked, so quiet Harry nearly missed it.  
"You made me this cold! You put me back together then shattered me for your own amusement. I am what you made me." Then Harry looked around, suddenly aware of the battle all around them. He smiled sadly. "Goodbye Damien." _

_He didn't need to watch the green light hit to know it hit._

"Only two hours into the battle and I was facing Voldemort. We argued for a while, both blaming the other for this battle, but eventually we fought. A magical battle to top all before it! We fought for what seemed like years, but was only an hour at most, and eventually I hit him. At the same time as the killing curse hit I stuck my sword in his gut and, luckily, the combination killed him.

My triumph, however, was short lived. Every single one of my friends died in that battle."

When Harry looked up the hobbits were crying silent tears. Legolas moved towards him, eyes sad, hand outstretched, but Harry shrugged him away.

"Happy now?" The young wizard asked, his voice bitter. He stood up, once again trying to avoid their eyes, and started to walk, lighting a cigarette.

"Harry wait! Where are you going?"

Harry didn't turn back at the sound of Frodo's voice; he didn't even hear the hobbit. The shadows were too chattery.

"_Come…come to the depths of the mines." _They hissed, _"We have something to show you."_

He followed them down through the winding passageways and over the bridges deep down into the depths of Moria

"_Come…come…"_

He didn't hear something following him.


	6. The gateway

Disclaimer: Same as before

Warnings: Same as before.

He stumbled as he walked, his body weary, everything about him emotionally and physically drained. But he followed the voices of the shadows, trusting them not to let him be harmed, because Harry wasn't sure if he had the strength to fight. The lack of sleep had caught up with him.

"_Come…come"_

He pushed on, walking non-stop for hours, and then grabbed at the wall as his legs gave way. He pushed himself back up, staggering forward, trying to ignore the colours dancing in front of his eyes. As he took another step his body collapsed, and he fell backwards, no longer conscious enough to remember to put his hands out to break his fall.

He didn't hit the ground.

HP

When Harry awoke the first thing he noticed was the small fire, burning brightly in the darkness. The next thing was that his back was pressed against something and that wrapped around him were a pair of arms. He stiffened slightly, not used to the contact but strangely enjoying it, and carefully turned over to see who was lying next to him.

Blonde hair covered the face completely, but even before Harry softly moved the hair aside he knew who it was. Legolas. He stared down at the beautiful elf and almost against his will trailed his fingertips ever so lightly over the perfect face. As Legolas stirred from his sleep Harry quickly snatched his hand back and attempted to pull away, but the arms around his waist only tightened.

"Legolas," He whispered softly, "Wake up." He stroked his finger delicately up and down the elf's check while repeating his words. "Wake up, wake up, wake up…" A smile spread across Legolas face. "I'm already awake…"

Harry pulled back sharply, breaking through the arms that held him, when Legolas grabbed his wrist, tugging him into a tenderly searing kiss.

He lost himself. Completely, wholly and utterly. As he closed his eyes, opening his mouth in invitation, there was nothing but the feeling of ecstasy running through him. Nothing but the pressure of lips on his, the tongue mapping his mouth, the hands stroking his hips, his back.

Millennia could have passed and darkness ruled, they would have missed it, so entranced where they in the moment.

They pulled apart, panting, and realisation flooded Harry's mind. "What am I doing?" He said standing up, dazed and disoriented. "I shouldn't be doing this."

"Why?" Legolas asked, watching him intently.

"Because…I just can't."

"Can't or won't?"

Harry turned away, not wanting Legolas to see the confusion that raged through him.

"Am I so repulsive you can't look at me now?" Legolas snapped.

"That is not it and you know!" Harry shouted, whirling around to face the elf, before impulsively kissing the blond. Harry knew it was frantic and desperate and completely invalidated what he had said only seconds ago, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Tell me again that you can't do this." Legolas whispered to him, his hot breath tickling Harry's ear.

"I…"

HP

They walked through the dark tunnels deeper and deeper, Harry trusting the shadows to lead him and Legolas trusting Harry.

"Why do you do that?" The elf asked as Harry lit up another cigarette. The wizard sighed, watching his breath blow the smoke in pretty little patterns.

"Because it helps."

HP

"Where are we going?" Legolas asked again as Harry drew him down a winding staircase.

"I'm not sure." He answered, "But we'll get there soon."

"Bu-,"

"Trust me."

HP

They once again slept in each other's arms that night, Legolas seemingly keeping Harry's nightmares at bay. It had been a long time since he had felt like this, felt like he wasn't alone. Since Him there were only the shadows to keep him safe and warm, but they were barely tangible and not the most social of things. But then neither was Harry.

But somehow, somehow in such a short time Legolas had managed to rip through Harry's stone defences, had torn his lonely solitude apart with such force that Harry was still reeling from it. And Harry had tried every reason, every excuse he could find over the weeks to try and stop himself falling so completely again, but one kiss had destroyed them all.

Harry knew when he was fighting a losing battle.

HP

"_Almost there…we're almost there…you will see…hidden for so long…"  
_The shadows danced, visibly when they moved into the brightness from the conjured light that floated in front of the two. Legolas and Harry walked for another hour. "We should have encountered something by now." Legolas said, "Goblins or orcs at least, if not some of the other creatures that are rumoured to live down hear." _"Not rumours…we know…they will leave us be…the shadows rule…"_

Legolas pulled his bow out inhumanly fast. "What was that?" He asked pointing an hour into the darkness. "They will not harm you." Harry said pushing the bow and arrow down. "You should not be able to hear them."

"Who are they?" Legolas asked peering around warily. Harry shrugged.

"I'm not sure really. I call them the shadows but…they are not every shadow and every shadow is not one of them. Always I have heard them whispering in the darkness, felt them wrap around me. They have protected me when I cannot protect myself, and they have comforted me when no one else would."

Harry watched the dark beings swirling around him. "I do not fully know what they are and they will not tell me. They will do so if they wish but if not…I don't really need to know."

"Why are we down here anyway?" Legolas said. Harry shrugged again.

"They want to show me something. I've learnt to trust them."

"_Here…we're here…master…here…look…"_

"All I see is a wall." Harry said placing his hand on it in case it was an illusion.

"It's not," Legolas said softly, "I can felt the energy in it."

"_A gift…one must give to receive…an exchange…"_

"What is the price?" Harry asked guardedly.

"_The thing you cannot do without."_

"Thing I cannot…oxygen? No I can't give it that, um…food or water? No…Blood!"

"_Blood…your life force…it craves it…it needs it…"_

Legolas looked uneasy. "Are you sure about this?" Harry nodded and bent down to pull a knife out of one of his boots. "Here goes nothing…" He murmured, and brought the knife swiftly across his hand, not even wincing.

The blood poured out, cascading down his hand, and suddenly thrumming power surrounded him. He fell to his knees, not hearing Legolas shout, and tried to let the…whatever it was drink it's fill without struggling.

"**Relax young one," **It whispered soothingly**, "Do not fear me. Relax…"**

And slowly he did relax, the tension draining out of him.** "You are worthy, Lord of the Shadows, you and your companion may pass."**

HP

The chamber reminded Harry of the Chamber of Secrets, though without the gigantic snake. It was large with a high ceiling and glittering gems in the walls, made entirely of stone. Torches burned along the walls flickering, disturbed by an unfelt wind. But Harry's eyes were drawn to the shadows.

They danced together unerroringly, a haunting dance of life and death, the beginning and the end, love and hate. Filled with macabre smiles and chilling laughter, intertwining their incorporeal bodies in a mockery of sex and fighting, bowing and swaying to music only they could hear.

"What is this place?" Harry demanded, unnerved and unsure. The dark beings twirled around him and Legolas, chanting and chattering, whispering… "_Thissssss is the gateway to the other realm…the doorway to Earth…no one ever found it…not even the dwarves dig this deep…we know…it feeds us…" _

"Feeds you?"

"_Yessssss…we feed off magic…off wizards…off elves…off the Earth…off the gateways…they throb with magic…and they regain it quickly…"_

"What are you?" Legolas asked.

"_Ussssssss…We are the umbraes... or so mortals have called us...we live in the shadows...hiding...feeding. We know that which is...that was...that will be...we never age...never die...never change. We serve only the Lord of the Shadows...always...forever..."_

"How do I use this gateway?" Harry inquired, not missing the fact that Legolas stiffened when he asked.

"_Blood must be offered...and words must be said...it works anytime...but only here..."_

Both Harry and Legolas were silent, though the shadows continued chitter-chattering. After what seemed to the elf like forever he asked the important question.

"Will you go?"


	7. Will you go?

Disclaimer: Same as before

Warnings: Same as before.

A simple question really. It didn't need some long-winded answer, or hours to be thought over. A simple yes or no would suffice. Should suffice. But it was not as simple as Harry would have liked.

He avoided the eyes of the elf that was watching him intently, and instead surveyed the shadows, the umbrae, that coiled around him. But they were only darkness, and his thoughts always strayed to the question.

Did he want to go home? No, not really. He had no home to go to. All that he loved was buried six feet under the ground and memories lingered on Earth, memories that he could barely suppress even when he was in a different world. There was no one on Earth waiting forlornly for his return. The war was ended, and that was all he had worked towards for years. There was nothing for him there.

But did he want to stay on Middle Earth? Here, too, he knew no one, had nothing. But there were no memories here, waiting to drown him if he let his guard down. He didn't hear the voices of the dead, laughing, screaming, as he waked down a too familiar corridor. His mind wasn't bombarded with recollections when he entered a room, of laughing, crying, fucking, fighting.

But there was a war. And a dark lord worse than Voldemort could have ever hoped to be. The armies of the enemy were being mustered, the soldiers sneering and slathering, animalistic and full of blood lust, readying for attack. And the defenders bared their necks and whimpered, simpering and weak. They couldn't win. The elves cared little for they all could leave, the dwarves hid in their mines and mountains, and the men? The race of man had fallen into decay and filthy decadence long ago. Harry had no wish to fight a war he knew they couldn't win.

And yet, there was a part of him that was angry for so easily saying that a world had no hope. The odds were heavily against them, too heavily, but…perhaps. Just perhaps.

There was another part of him, one much deeper, more suppressed, which wanted to tell him another reason to stay. He wanted so much to give in, to stop fighting it, and he had earlier, something that he screamed at himself for even while he was doing it. He wouldn't survive another heartbreak, he knew, he wasn't even healed from the first.

But Legolas was looking at him pleadingly, his eyes a tsunami of emotion. They were drawing him in deeper, and deeper, mesmerising and so, so beautiful. And he hated that. Hated that his heart hadn't learnt the painful lesson that love was the prequel to utter despair. He wouldn't do that to himself again.

"The umbrae will lead you to the exit of Moria."

Legolas gasped, flinching back, then reached out a hand towards him. "Harry please…Don't…Don't go."

But Harry kept his face blank and stepped back from the pale, shaking hand, refusing the urge to comfort the beautiful elf.

"They will make sure you come to no harm." No one could ever know how hard it was to keep his voice cold and emotionless, his eyes hard and blank.

"Harry please, don't push me away."

"_Harry, please don't push me away" He didn't have to look away from his book to know that it was Damien speaking. "You're not close enough to be pushed away." Harry answered, keeping his face, nonchalant. The brown haired, brown eyed boy came closer, lowering himself into the seat beside Harry. "Aren't I? Would you truly not care if I left? If I abandoned you like everyone else and left you alone in your little black world of anger and hatred? I could leave you know? Walk out that door without a backward glance and never return." Harry felt cool lips touch his neck, a warm tongue dart out to lick his skin._

"_But I don't want to, and you don't want me to either." Then he gently turned Harry's head towards him and kissed him passionately. "Do you want me to leave Harry?" _

_The answer was quiet and reluctant. "No…"_

"Just go Legolas." And his voice cracked a little with each word, and his throat was filled with shards of bleeding glass. "Just go." And he turned away, not wanting to watch as someone he could have loved walked away from him.

His head had to remind his heart that it was his own choice.

He sat in silence for hours, only moving to light another cigarette and smoke it every now and then. He knew that he should ask how to get back to Earth but…He didn't **want** to go back to Earth. He'd rather just sit for eternity in the comforting darkness, surrounded by prancing shadows and haunting memories. In a place where there was no one who could hurt him and no one he could hurt.

He didn't know how long he spent there, in the deepest chasm of Moria, but it was more than weeks. Despite this, he never tried to take the portal back to Earth, content to lose himself in the calm presence of the Umbrae. It reminded him of a place, and a time, so long ago, when he was oh so alone.

_The chamber was cold and unwelcoming, filled with cobwebs and bones, rotting corpses of rats and haunting whispers. His every step was heavy and reluctant, his mind filled with trepidation, but he kept on walking, further and further until he reached the centre of the chamber. "Home sweet home." He muttered sarcastically to himself. He surveyed the large puddle of water from the plumbing, the dead basilisk rotting, and the distinct lack of anything…friendly looking. Well, he supposed it would give him something to do. _

It was scarily similar to how he was now. Both time he had left his friends, isolated himself purposely. Both times he was broken inside. That, however, wasn't by choice. He sighed, and glanced mournfully and longingly at the empty packet of cigarettes. He had run out days ago, but god, he would kill for a fag. Just something to make him feel better. But he sincerely doubted that there would be a tobacco shop in Middle Earth, let alone in Moria. He suspected that the dead bodies and the orc infestation would be rather off putting for consumers.

He watched the Umbrae, unable to distinguish one from the other. He barely knew any more about them than he had when he had entered this world. And his mind was full of questions he needed answered, his head a whirling vortex of curiosity and mild confusion.

"Ummm…Excuse me?"

_Yes Master?_

"What are you? I mean, are you actually creatures, magic, what?"

The Umbrae stopped their movements, silent for a minute before answering.

_We are what we are, and that is all we will say._

Harry growled, glaring fiercely. Why did they always have to be so evasive?

"Well why am I your master?" He asked angrily. The umbrae danced close to him, wrapping around his body and sliding against his skin. Cold. So cold.

_You have always been our master. Since time began we have been awake, and we answer to only one. And that is you my Lord, always and only you, though you know it not and remember it not at all. We have always been with you and you with us. It is how it is always meant to be._

"Then why don't I remember?"

The Umbrae stilled, and Harry could sense a sudden nervousness in the air, a caution that had never before been exhibited by the Umbrae. He waited for them to speak, but they said nothing.

"Well?"

They were still silent, but there was a disturbance in the air, and Harry had a strange feeling that they were conferring with each other, not wanting him to hear. It was then that he lost his temper.

"I demand that you answer me!" He felt the air boil and crackle around himself; saw and felt the Umbrae shrink back and cower as his magic lashed out angrily. Afterwards one of the Umbrae came out of the shadows, a black, formless mist. Then, moving to stand before its Lord, it began to take shape. He didn't recognise at first the shape it took, though it resembled partly a human form. Then the black mist seemed to become more solid, fusing together.

Harry's eyes widened as they surveyed the creature that stood before him. The shape was now definitely human, tall and muscled, but from its back protruded leathery wings, taller than the creature's body and two metres across. Its entire body was black, the skin like gleaming, ebony marble, with black claws, black lips, black eyes and black knee length hair, braided tightly.

The creature sank to one knee, bowing its head, and Harry could only stare in awe at what the shadowy Umbra had become. Then he shook his head and regained his composure, stepping back and looking down at the Umbra. Unbidden, words he couldn't remember thinking spilled forth from his lips.

"Rise my servant, and may the shadows forever hold you in their embrace."

The Umbra stood gracefully, keeping its head bowed. "What do you wish of me my lord?"

It took Harry a few seconds to remember his question.

"If I have always been your Master, why do I not remember? And how could I be your Lord forever when I am mortal wizard and will live at longest two hundred years?"

The Umbra finally looked up at Harry, its black eyes swirling and endless, and there was a deep anger in them, and a pitying sadness.

"When time began we were created, and after us was created our Lord, the only one who could command us. He was not mortal, nor vampire or Elf, but something else, and the Gods never explained what it was exactly they had created. Only that we must obey it. And we did. For millions of years our Lord lived, the Umbrae always at his side, and we saw the changing of the world, not just on earth, but on Universes that are no longer remembered, on some that no longer exist. And he seemed content in our company, and we did not see his longing for another like him, or at least as like him as another could get. Alas! For our blindness and folly led us ill and we knew not what was happening before it was too late to stop it. We could not bring our Master back from the brink of destruction, no matter how much we cajoled and begged and pleaded. For we could not offer him what it was he had found, and he could not control what was happening.

He had fallen in love.

A first, for he had never stayed in one place long enough to fall in love, preferring to slip between dimensions and time, saving and destroying as he willed. And perhaps his love may not have been his downfall if not for who he fell in love with.

A mortal.

This mortal captivated our Lord, mesmerised him to the point were he was almost driven insane by desire. The mortal was young and pretty, and his power was bright and tangible, a light in our Masters eternally dark world. But the Gods are loath to let one of their first creations be, and the Fates are sadistic and bored, drawing their amusement from the pain of others. So it was that the mortal who stole the heart of the Lord of the Umbrae crushed and pierced it, throwing it carelessly into the hungry pit of despair. For he fell in love with another you see, or perhaps fell in lust would be a better term, as mortals are often wont to do He became infatuated with a young mortal girl and our Master was forgotten. Such woe was upon him! And he almost drowned himself in bitterness, but he would take no revenge on the young mortals, would not begrudge them their love, and instead gave them a gift. A gift of magic. And so the race of Wizards was born.

But for a year our Lord aimlessly wandered, flitting through worlds and never settling, never healing the hole in his heart. And so it became infected, and the disease spread deeper until it burned through his very soul. And one day he could take it no longer and he threw himself before the gods, begging for them to finally let him be free from the mortal world and travel onwards to the Afterplains. But they refused, for he was too important to them, but in a rare moment of compassion they offered him a choice. He could live on as he was until the Gods were done with him, and that would not be for many millennia, or his body could die and his soul sleep, until such a time as the Gods had need of him. Then he would be reborn as a babe, growing up with no memory of his previous life, but under obligation to answer when the Gods called. Only if he asked would his memories return but his duties would stay with him still."

And so Harry sank to the floor in grief, not understanding the emotions that flowed through him, that threatened to pull him under, but succumbing to the overwhelming desire to sob and scream. He didn't notice the Umbra melt back into the shadows, or the days changing, until he awoke from his stupor of grief, a new resolve clutched tightly to his chest.


	8. Leaving Moria

Disclaimer :Same

Warnings: Same

The Umbrae watched their Master warily, nervous about his sudden restlessness. They were aware that their Lord had had some sort of epiphany, but they had no idea what about. It had been three days since the revelation of Harry's past and he had been acting strangely ever since, pacing and mumbling to himself, practising his fighting skills.

Harry let the sword clatter to the ground and wiped the sweat from his forehead before pulling out his wand and casting a cleaning charm on himself. He picked up his sword and sheathed it in the scabbard that hung from the weapon belt at his waist. He glanced around the chamber that had been his home, at the bed that was in the corner, the bookcase, the rug, small touches that made it his. Extraordinarily, in a way he had actually enjoyed being there. It was peaceful, and quiet and safe and….his. But he had never really intended to stay there forever.

He grabbed a large bag filled with supplies and medicines and slung it over his back. The chamber acted like the room of requirements, bringing him whatever he needed, within reason. Though sometimes he did wonder where it came from. He looked over at the Umbrae. There was less than there had been before. Some he had sent to find news on the Fellowship and the state of Middle Earth. Others left on their own accord, though having gained permission from him first. Where they went Harry didn't know.

"I'm leaving." He said, as he plaited his long hair. The Umbrae stared at him, before the one who had told him about his past, Caraythas, stepped forward, once again taking a human looking form. "May I ask, My Lord, where you are going?"

"To join the war," Harry said calmly, "From what you have told me that is what I am supposed to do, and anyway, I can't just sit here while the world falls apart." Harry was glad to hear that his voice was stronger, more resolute, than it had been for a long time. He didn't know why, but he had expected the Umbra to argue with him, but while it clearly wasn't happy, it gave no protestations, only bowed and said "as you wish my Lord."

"Will you lead me out?" Harry asked Caraythas. The Umbra nodded and, without saying a word, walked out of the chamber. Harry with one last, final look, and a mental promise to return some day, followed silently.

It took only a day for them to leave the mines of Moria, for they were not troubled by the creatures that resided in the depths. They walked silently through the majestic caverns, weaving between the fallen debris and the screaming skeletons. Their surroundings had soon become familiar and Harry felt a rising excitement as they neared the surface.

The two stopped as they reached the entrance hall, and Harry turned to Caraythas. "Where is the fellowship?" He asked, knowing that the other Umbra reported to him.

"It appears they have split up my Lord. The hobbits Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee are in the realm of Gondor. The hobbits Perigrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck are in Fangorn Forest, in the company of the Tree folk. Borimir, son of Denethor, cannot be found so we assume he is dead. The last four, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Gimli, son of Gloin, Legolas, son of Thranduil, and Gandalf the White are in the realm of Rohan."

Harry nodded. He remembered both the name of Gondor and that of Rohan, though he didn't know exactly where they were. "Will you take me to Rohan Caraythas?"

"Of course, Master," The Umbra answered with a small bow. "But…it will take far too long to walk there if you wish to be swift. However, if I remember correctly, there is a Noctis at Rivendale."

"A Noctis?" Harry asked confused.

Caraythus nodded before explaining. " A Noctis…I believe that they have been referred to as Shadowcorns on Earth, for they resemble Unicorns greatly, but they are pure ebony. They were created for the Lord of the Shadows, you, and there are only one or two in one world at any time. They are as we are in a way, with a great affinity with the darkness. They run with a speed greater than any horse, and they will bear on their backs only the Shadow Lord."

Harry frowned, worrying his lower lip. "How long will it take to get to Rivendell?" He asked, not wanting to waste time.

"Only a few days my Lord. I assure you that this way is far quicker than either walking or buying a horse."

Harry thought it over, in no way happy about it but aware that it was the best available plan. "Fine," He acquiesced, "Lead the way."

They walked to where they knew the door was, and Harry spoke the password with no warning to the Umbra. As the door opened the light spilled into the Cavern and Caraythas jumped back into the shadows with a hiss of pain and anger.

Harry stared at him in surprise, his expression apologetic. "I didn't know that you couldn't go into the sunlight."

Caraythas gave the equivalent to a shrug. "It is only midday sun that we truly cannot stand. But I had not realized that it was noon. Will you be able to make your own way to the abode of the Elves my Lord?"

Harry mentally traced his way to Rivendall in his mind, and when he was certain he knew the way he nodded. "Yes. You may stay here, or wherever else you wish to go."

The Umbra bowed low. "Thank you my Lord. We will always come if you have need of us."

Harry gave a small bow back, though it was not necessary, and slipped into the blessed sunlight. He had forgotten how it felt to feel the sun rays on his face, to breathe sweet, clean air, to see plants and trees and other things that were actually alive! He took a deep breath, relishing the feel of the cool air, and started the journey back to Rivendell.

It wasn't a long journey. By foot it was three days at the least, a bit more if you walked at a slower pace than Harry Potter. Most did. He took the time to enjoy the deceptive peace. There were no signs of war there, no signs of anything out of place. At the moment the battles were too far away, but Harry knew that if the Fellowship failed the entirety of Middle Earth would be over run with war.

He was tired and weary when he reached Rivendell. His feet ached as he rested little, his body ached from lack of sleep and proper nutrients, and…his heart hurt. He was missing Legolas, desperately, pitifully, unbelievably. He was missing him so much that every other thought seemed to revolve around the blond Elf. But at least he knew that every step brought him closer to Legolas.

Harry followed the almost hidden track that was marked out by white stones. When he finally reached the edge of a steep fall he smiled wildly, looking down onto the beautiful valley below. He could hear the water whispering in the riverbed, could smell the fresh trees in the pure air. The air grew warmer as he walked down the zig zag path into the valley of Rivendell, crossed over the small bridge, and opened the doors to the last Homely House.

It was quiet when he entered, but then it was night so that wasn't so surprising. He tiptoed across the stone floor, but froze when he heard footsteps. He conjured a ball of light and walked with heavy steps, so as not to surprise whoever it was. It was he, however, who was surprised when Arwen entered the room.

She gasped when she saw him, and Harry bowed. "My Lady, it is late to be wandering the halls is it not?"

She gave a small curtsy. "I could not sleep my Lord. The moon is high yet my thoughts are endless and my body is not weary. Why…Why are you here? Has something happened?"

Harry shook his head, hearing the unspoken question. "Aragorn is fine. Borimir, alas, has passed away, but the rest of the fellowship live, though they have been torn asunder and take different path. Aragorn is with Gimli and Legolas in Rohan. Though I will not lie to you. A battle is about to be fought and Saruman's army outnumbers ours greatly."

His heart bled at the utter despair he saw on her face and he quickly sought to reassure her. "But do not give up hope Lady Arwen, for the direction of the wind is ever changing and not everything is how it was."

Arwen smiled slightly. "You have been spending too much time around elves and wizards. You are becoming as cryptic as my father and Gandalf."

Harry grinned. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do."

Arwen looked at him bemused, and he laughed before telling her that it wasn't important.

"Why are you here Lord Harry?" The elf asked cautiously.

Harry sighed. "It is complicated, but simple, but to cut it short I will say only this: I lost myself in the mines of Moria, and I could not go on as I was. Only after spending weeks in its deepest depths could I once more have a hold, if a tentative one, on who I am. I come here to acquire a steed, and I will then ride to join the battle in Rohan."

"Do you wish to speak to my father?" Arwen asked.

Nodding his head while smothering a yawn, Harry replied, "Greatly, but first I would very much like some sleep."

He woke up refreshed and relaxed, wanting nothing more than to stay in the blessed bed forever. But a knock on the door had roused him, so after calling out for the person to wait he cast a cleaning charm on himself and put on his clothes. When he opened the door it was to find Arwen on the other side.

"My father requests you company my Lord." She said with a curtsy.

"Call me Harry, please. My Lord makes me feel old." He ignored the voice that said he was old, extremely so.

"Then please call me Arwen."

Harry nodded with a smile and after asking where the Lord Elrond was, headed down the corridors, greeting a few familiar elves as they passed. When he reached the ornate doors at the end of a hallway he knocked loudly and waited for a reply. When he was invited in he entered quietly, closing the door behind himself, and bowed low.

"My Lord Elrond," He murmured before straightening. The Dark haired elf replied in kind, before gesturing for Harry to sit down.

"I was most surprised to hear from my daughter that you had arrived late last night."

"I had not known until three days ago that here would be where I was headed. I would have preferred to go straight to Rohan, but needs must."

Elrond surveyed him with penetrating dark eyes, and Harry had to try hard to refrain from squirming like a naughty school boy.

"Speak to me Harry," Elrond said, surprisingly gentle. "Why did you leave the Fellowship?"

Harry sighed. "I'm gonna guess that you won't fall for any evasions or lies so…Gods…I don't know how to…I just…" Harry stopped, took a few deep breaths, then tried again. "I've tried so hard to run from my past. I bury it deeper and deeper, and sometimes I can forget it's there. But not for long. The quest, and the people, brought everything straight back to the forefront of my mind, breaking open wounds that had barely scabbed over. My emotions particularly made everything harder for me and…I couldn't stand it, I had to get away.

It was a great surprise to me when I found a way back to Earth. I wasn't sure whether to take it but made up my mind and stayed in Moria. But I never left. I stayed in the mines, thinking things through, and I found out things about my past that put things in a new light. So, obviously, I decided to join the war.

I'm only here to pick up my mount."

Elrond seemed strangely unperturbed when hearing this and asked only one question. "Your mount?"

"Yes, I've been told that the Noctis resides here. I have finally come to claim it."

For the first time, Harry saw Elrond shocked.


	9. Flashback

Disclaimer :Same

Warnings: Same

Another update. Go me. This contains a really long flashback, but the chapters much longer as well.

They walked through the halls of Rivendell in silence, Harry contemplating what to tell, Elrond waiting. Harry's eyes didn't notice the absolute beauty of the paintings that lined the walls, his mind didn't marvel at the exquisite things that were the norm here. In that moment there was nothing to him but the thoughts in his own head. Then he finally looked up, his eyes focused, and he began to speak.

"You know of who I must be to claim the Noctis do you not?"

Elrond nodded, face grave. "Yes, I am fully aware of the implications of your request. But it has been many a millennia since the Lord of the Umbrae walked on Middle Earth."

"I don't remember having ever been here at all." Harry said sadly, though he didn't know if he actually wanted to remember.

"I assumed as such as you do not give any indication of remembrance of anything here. I, however, was no more than a child, around the age of 11 I believe, though an age has since passed and my memories blur. You did not look as you do now, though it is not a noticeable difference. You were older than, and colder. You nether smiled nor laughed, and there was forever a wistful look in your eyes, though what you were longing for we never knew.

You stayed in Rivendell for a time, than journeyed onto the main lands, Rohan, Gondor, Mirkwood, the Dwarves, the Ents, the Istari. Even Mordor, though then the land was not feared as it is today."

"Why did I come?" Harry asked.

"To give a warning. The Lord of the Umbrae had been nothing but a myth to those races that were not long lived. But the Elves remembered, and we received your coming with awe and trepidation, for the tales told us that only war was foretold by your presence. You spoke of a great evil that would infect everything that lived, of a darkness that would swallow the earth. It was by your command that the races of Middle Earth united to fight Sauron, and you fought with us."

Suddenly, Elrond turned to look at Harry was pain filled eyes, which were infected with a tiny bit of hope.

"You brought hope to my people, to all the peoples of Middle Earth. Your presence alone enhanced their moral more than an army of warriors."

"I have no memory of ever being more than I am now."

"And yet you still command the Umbrae, for only they could have told you about the Noctis. You now know of whom you were, who you will be again. Your memories will return, and with them will come the knowledge of the gods and the wisdom of the truly immortal. It can only be that the Valor sent you here to help us. Will you?"

Harry could feel the weight of destiny crushing him. It was hard to breathe, and he collapsed against the wall, head dizzy, and eyes hazy. And then…then…he remembered….

_The marble floor was cool against his knees, and he traced the swirls of black with his fingers, though one eye was stuck shut with blood and the other eye was just a bleeding mess, the dagger made hole unsealed and leaking with different fluids. He didn't look at the beings that were surveying his wrecked, destroyed body with cold detachment, though he could feel every slight tear that was made in his skin when he made the smallest movement, was aware of every stream of blood that cascaded down his scarred and charred corpse. Because that was what it was, a corpse. It had never been alive. It had never needed the air that hissed through broken teeth and torn lips, didn't need the blood that was being pumped onto the floor by a needless heart._

_He felt soft fingers gently grasp his shredded chin, and lift his head. He didn't feel the pain that should have shot through his body and made him writhe on the floor. Physical pain didn't register anymore. He was made to stare into swirling purple eyes, but it was his mind that did the starring, his so called 'third eye'. He couldn't see through his actual eyes. He didn't particularly want to._

_A pale, glowing hand stroked his blistered, burnt cheek, fingers strangely shacking. _

"_Oh, my darling little one, what have you done to yourself?"_

_He didn't answer. He didn't think he was supposed. And anyway, wasn't it obvious what he had done to himself? The cuts and bruises and blisters and blood and broken bones and uncovered muscle were surely enough evidence of what he had done to himself. _

"_Your beautiful face, you've ruined it. And your skin and – oh, my dearest child, why? The mortal wasn't worth this. No one is worthy of you heart beloved, especially if they make you do this."_

_He spoke for the first time, his tongue darting out to wet his tattered lips, coming back into his mouth covered with blood and flakes of skin. He opened his mouth and could feel the skin splitting on his face, more blood washing away the dirt._

"_He didn't make me do this. It was my choice."_

"_He may not have physically forced you to inflict such harm on yourself," A deeper, angry voice said, "But this would not have happened if not for that thrice damned mortal. He will pay dearly for this!"_

"_No!" He tried to lift himself off the floor, tried to look less wretched and broken and…weak. But he had not the strength and collapsed back down into a sobbing mess of blood and limbs. He was enfolded in strong masculine arms and lifted from the floor. His carrier sat back down into what he knew was a throne, and he curled up in his arms, ignoring the blackened burn wounds that screamed at him with every sigh._

"_Please Master, no. Please leave them be." He was sobbing now, and he didn't know that all the worlds sobbed with him, their doomed protector, that all lands were shaking, all skies were storming, all seas were ravaging the terrain. "It was my fault, all my fault. I should have known better."_

"_No," the male said sternly, " You shouldn't have. Alas! For we did not think to teach you of love, and the umbrae rarely love at all. You were created at the dawning of the worlds, and while we raised you to be a child of the gods, we did not raise you to be only yourself."_

"_Why are you here Calhoun? What do you wish of us? I cannot promise we will grant it, but within reason we will try."_

_They waited, the nine gods of all, but no answer came for many a minute. Then he spoke quite and wrecked. _

"_I can't do this anymore…I can't live like this. It hurts, it hurts so much. I just…I just can't, but I can't stop it. I've tried, so much, but you made sure that I would never die without your permission. So please, give me that now. Kill me." _

_He looked up at the inhumanly beautiful face above him. _

"_Please! I'm begging you father, kill me. Please. I don't want to live forever. I don't want to hurt so much."_

"_I won't kill you Calhoun, I can't, none of us can .We created you to be immortal and immortal you are. To destroy you we would have to uncreate you completely and to do that we would have to delve into the very fabric of the universe, unpicking every trail you've left. And while yes, you would be gone, you would not be dead. You would cease to be completely. All the worlds would remember you no longer and all that you've done would be undone. Only the Umbrae would know of your creation and us." _

"_We cannot allow this." Another voice said, feminine, yet older than the first female voice. He knew that she was watching them sternly; her ageless face hard and cold, her silvery hair tied back tightly as she sat perfectly still, her white gown uncreased and perfect. "We cannot allow the worlds you have saved to be destroyed. We cannot allow the rest to be left without a protector, and we no longer have the power to create another. We could create only you, we always knew this." _

"_And we would miss you so love, we could not bear to be without you." It was the first voice, lovely and soft, sounding like the clearest river trickling over smooth pebbles. "Do not try to leave us darling, it hurts to see you sad." _

_It hurt his heart to hear the sorrow in his mothers voice, and he lifted his head from his fathers chest, flinching to see the tears on her face. He held out a crushed hand, and she came to him, holding him gently._

"_Don't cry mother, please don't cry, I'm sorry." And now he was crying again, and he wondered if the temple of the gods had ever before known such despair as that which filled it now._

"_We can give you only two choices Calhoun." Another male that was, like the female, cold and hard. The two elder gods had ever been so. "You can continue on. We will erase all signs of what you have done to yourself, lessen the pain of your heart, and you will continue to do your duty until we need you no longer, which will be many years in coming._

_Or, you can be reborn. We will destroy this shell, block your memories and put your soul into a peaceful sleep. When we have great need, you will be reborn from the womb of a mortal as a babe. You will have no memories of what passed before, but you will know what you are needed to do, and the Umbrae will stay at your side eternally. You will look the same, and you will retain much of your current mannerisms and personality."_

"_So he won't remember us?"_

_This was his mother, sad and resigned. The face of the male elder god softened._

"_No Aysel, he will not, not unless he wishes to."_

_He thought. Thought for far too long. Then he looked to his father, his mother. _

"_I'm sorry."_

_He slid out of their hold and walked towards the elder gods, ignoring the sad looks on the faces of the five that had stayed silent. _

"_I choose to sleep."_

He gasped for air, and it was as if he was awakening form a deep sleep. His eyes were heavy and hurting from the light, and his limbs were like lead. He was slumped against a wall, Lord Elrond knelt before him, worried.

"Are you hurt my Lord?" The Elf asked, helping Harry to stand.

"Please, don't call me that. And no, I'm not hurt."

"Then may I ask what happened?"

"I remembered…" His voice trailed off and for a minute or so he thought of the memory, the gods, the two he called mother and father, then predicting the question on Elrond lips, expanded on his answer.

"I remembered my last meeting with the gods. I…I had tried to kill myself, in so many ways that my body was unrecognisable. But I hadn't died. So I went to them and asked them to kill me, but they refused and instead put me to sleep. I awoke 17 years ago, no more than a baby, reborn with no memories. But still my destiny is to save and protect, so that is what I will do."

He looked at the garden that surrounded them, colourful and peaceful, and felt what could have been a small twinge of recognition. Then they walked through a wood and entered a clearing, all thoughts of memories leaving his mind.

It was stood in the direct sunlight, the rays surrounding it with a glow. Harry stepped forward, while Elrond stayed behind, and the Noctis started. It turned, muscles rippling underneath the glistening black coat, and seemed to stare at Harry, eyes yellow and pupil-less. Then it snorted in acknowledgement, throwing its head back so that its mane cascaded around its neck.

Harry just watched in awe, captivated, and then strode forward slowly, cautiously. The Noctis trotted forward to meet him until they stood face to face, neither moving. Then the Noctis butted Harry with its head, and Harry laughed gently, lifting a hand to stroke it's muzzle. Then he stroked down its neck, patting it's flank.

"Its beautiful." Harry breathed. The Noctis snorted in what appeared to be annoyance and Elrond laughed.

"It is a She." He said, "Though she has never been named. She allows few to come near her. Even elves that are naturals with animals."

"She was created to bear the Lord of the Umbrae," Harry murmured, "and only he shall she bear. She will not suffer any other to ride her."

Then he shook his head. "I really don't know why I know that."

Then Harry turned fully to Elrond. "I must go."

"Yes," Elrond agreed, "You must. The supplies we have given you will last, and the Noctis needs not eat much. Ride fast Harry, and stop for neither sun nor moon, rain nor snow, for you are needed and needed now. The Noctis will bear you swiftly."

Then Elrond bowed low, an act which Harry returned, and then Harry sprang up onto the Noctis, not caring for a saddle. It was not long before no Elf could see them, the Noctis galloping faster than the horses of Rohan, Harry riding as if he had been doing so since the dawn of time. Technically, he had.

As Elrond had said to do, they stopped rarely. Harry ate and slept on the Noctis, and they stopped only for Harry to relieve himself and on the rare occasion that the Noctis actually needed to sleep. Many a time Harry thought about calling for Caraythus, or one of the other Umbrae, but the revelations were too new and he wanted time to think.

So Harry let the Noctis guide him, and she seemed to know where she was going, never hesitating. The terrain changed little, mostly grass land, sometimes rocky. However, it was almost always open. A fact which annoyed Harry greatly. But unless they took a detour they could not avoid it, and they had no time to waste on taking the scenic route.

So it was with great relief that they passed through the gap of Rohan into the Land of the horse masters. Harry surveyed it with interest, and found it much like what they had spent days riding through, acres of grass. But in the distance Harry could see huts and houses, and further in light flickered. Too bright and too large. Fire. The black smoke that curled into the air was a dead give away.

The war had obviously already hit Rohan, so Harry had arrived later than he would have liked. But hopefully it was not too late. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and after grasping and finding nothing, he remembered that he was out. He wasted a few seconds longing for a cancer stick, but then sighed in resignation. He spurred Cameo, as he had decided to call her, on and they galloped down the hill, the wind whistling past them.

The village they had seen, which would have taken most a day to reach, took them only half, and he entered with a feeling of anticipation. As soon as a few seconds passed, however, a chill swam through his veins and he started to look for a sign, any sign, that there was life in the place. He searched through crumbling houses, and huts that had been burned to the ground, but found nothing of interest, only death. But not enough death for a village of this size. Which meant that the villagers escaped to somewhere. Too bad Harry had no idea where.

He sat down on the floor with a thud and hit his head against the wall in annoyance. Then he winced and rubbed it. "That didn't help." He had just about reconciled himself to calling for an Umbra when he heard a noise. He sat up straighter and quieted his breathing, motioning for Cameo to be still. There, a noise, faint but there.

He scrambled up to his feet, and searched for where it was coming from, Cameo following behind him. Suddenly, Cameo snorted and trotted ahead, forcing Harry to follow. It was not long before the noise started to get louder and became recognisable. Crying, definitely crying.

The Noctis stopped outside the ruins of a hut and motioned with her head inside. Harry patted her on the neck, thanked her, and then entered the hut silently. There were few things inside that weren't broken. Furniture was overturned, everything was scorched. Everything, except the boy huddled in the corner.

"Hi." Harry said softly.

The boy jumped and pushed himself further into the corner.

"I won't hurt you, I promise. I'm a friend. I'm heading now to fight with Rohan, but saw your village."

The boys head lifted lightly.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Ya swear it?"

"On my life and honour."

The boy seemed to contemplate the pledge, then nodded and looked up at Harry. He was no more than 13.

"See, no need to cry."

The boy glared, though it was rather pitiful considering the tear stains. Harry laughed gently as the boy hurriedly wiped away the tears.

"Where are your parents?" Harry asked.

"Gone," the boy said sadly, "The orcs came an' burned an' ev'ryone ran. They thought I 'ad got away but I tripped an' fell unconscious."

Harry smiled at him sympathetically. "Do you know where they have gone?"

The boy nodded. "Where ev'ryone goes."

"Will you take me there?" The boy nodded once again, eyes resolute. Harry offered him a hand and pulled him up from the floor.

_I'm almost there_


	10. Interlude Dreaming

Disclaimer :Same

Warnings: Same

**Interlude-Dream Sequences**

**Galadriel and Elrond**

"_I have believed for many years that the time of the Elves is fading. That either the time of man or orc is about to begin. And yet, the arrival of the Lord of the Umbrae has given me new hope. Perhaps the Elves may survive the coming storm if they stay, perhaps we need not flee."_

"_Why should we stay? If it were not for the greed of men we would not be at war at all. What do we owe them?"_

"_Nothing. But there comes a time when all must chose between what is easy and what is right. Shall we flee to the Grey Havens, live our lives in peace while Middle Earth burns, chained and tortured? Shall we let all men die in penance for the sins of one? Or shall we honour the allegiance that once existed between men and Elves ?Fight against the evil that threatens to swallow Middle Earth whole?"_

"_My people are readying to leave for the Grey Havens. But I will give them the choice. And I myself shall stay, as I have always planned. If they decide to stay, I will send warriors to Lothlorien to fight with Rohan."_

"_I thank you, as will all good men on this Earth. I too will send help. Saruman will not easily defeat a union between Elves and Men. But what of the Shadow Lord, will he fight?"_

"_He goes to Rohan with the speed of the Nocti, and he has pledged himself to this war. Whether he retains enough of himself to be of help remains to be seen. He does not seem to think so, though I believe he will fight until the end."_

"_I will speak to him. It has been far too long since we have last spoken, though he will remember it not at all. Soon he will understand what it means to be the Lord of the Umbrae. And when that time comes, Sauron himself will quake in fear, for he will not quickly forget the defeat that Lord Calhoun inflicted on him."_

"_But the Lord has forgotten, and it will not take much for Sauron to realise this."_

"_His memories are not gone forever, they will return unbidden, and perhaps unheeded. But they will come, and steadily Harry will become who he was created to be, who he was, who he should be and will always be, until the ending of the gods themselves, and the destruction of all. He was gifted with complete immortality, and cursed with a duty that he must carry out for all eternity. He cannot run from it however mush he tries, and he is running whether he knows it or nay._

_The destruction of Sauron rests on the Ring Bearer, who's own strength is failing. The entire battle for Middle Earth, however, rests on the choices of each individual and the strength of the Lord Calhoun, or Harry as his name now is._

_If he fails the world falls."_

"_He must not fail!" _

_**Galadriel and Harry**_

"_The end is coming. War is upon us. Men have not the strength to fight the coming storm"_

"_Then do they stand alone?"_

"_No longer. The Elves of Lothlorien will go to their aid. We will stay until the end. But we still cannot win this war. Sauron's army is too strong, his power too great. Not even the rings of the elves can hold him back"_

"_Then is all hope lost?"_

"_No, my Lord, for we have you."_

"_Me? I know nothing of the enemy we face, their strengths and weaknesses. I do not even know my own."_

"_You will learn, for you have fought many battles and each one has left their mark on you. You need only wish for the memories and they will return."_

"_But I'm not sure that I want them…"_

"_Then you must make do, though some will come unbidden nonetheless. And the Valor is with you, whether you believe it or not. They will not easily let you fall."_

"_I was immortal once. Am I again?"_

"_You always will be Shadow Lord, it cannot be changed. But you can be hurt, and while most will eventually heal, not all, and if you are incapacitated the battle will be lost. Do not risk it."_

"_I'll try, but I can't make any promises."_

"_That is what you said the last time."_

"_And was I? Incapacitated?"_

"_No! You fought with a skill and grace such as that only spoke of in Legends. And the Umbrae fought, as you, without fear nor reckless arrogance."_

"_They fought with me?"_

"_They will do whatever you command. But not all may fight by your side." _

"_Why?"_

"_Because the gods are not supposed to intervene in Earthly affairs. Since you are not a god, you may do it for them. However, you are a direct creation, one of the first, and as such hold more power then those who live in mortal worlds. Restrictions were placed on you, to the affect that you may only intervene in dire occasions and that you may only have a small help." _

"_How many?"_

"_30."_

"_30? So little?"_

"_It is not numbers that win a war, Lord Calhoun."_

"_No, but I know from experience in the last war I fought that it helps."_

"_Perhaps. But the Umbrae are skilled and do not often feel the feelings ordinary to man and elf. Neither do you, or rather, you did not. You are far more…human, than you were then."_

"_Is that a good thing?"_

"_Perhaps. It remains to be seen."_

"_Hmmm…"_

"_Take heart, Lord of the Umbrae. Your skill remains while your memories do not. Your command over the Umbrae is absolute and thirty may accompany you to the coming battle. And the Elves of Rivendell and Lothlorien, too, will come. Middle Earth will not bow to Sauron, whimpering and defeated. We will fight, or we will die."_


	11. Helms Deep

**Warnings: Umm…there's a battle, but it's not gory**

**Helms Deep, The northern valley of the White Mountains, to the southeast of the Gap of Rohan**

He looked out onto the army that seemed never-ending, only fading where the sun touched the earth and the end of his sight. The Rohirrim couldn't win this battle. They stood alone and were far too few in number. If only the Elves had come…If only Harry had come…

He tuned from the battlements, leaning against them instead of looking out. Harry. Legolas had tried not to think about Harry. And yet, he spent so much time thinking about not thinking about him, that nearly all his thoughts were about the wretched man. Not all those thoughts were complimentary. The lady of Lothlorion had helped him overcome his anger somewhat, telling him riddles and words that made no sense at all and yet meant no more that what they said. The lady Galadriel rarely spoke plainly.

But he had always known there was something different about Harry, that he was not as human as he thought. At first he had contributed it to him being a Wizard and yet, Harry felt not at all like the Istari, and while he definitely seemed to be a different breed of Wizard something told him that was not it.

It was only when he had finally caught up with the Fellowship that they figured it out. Aragorn and Gimli were a day or so away from Rohan and Legolas had learnt of the death of Boromir and the division of the Fellowship. Legolas had been wary of what to tell the others, but while he omitted the attraction between himself and Harry, he spoke to them of the shadows, the Umbrae, a name that had seemed strangely familiar.

It had been Aragorn who had remembered the old tales, having been brought up in Elrond's halls. And when he had suddenly found the answer Legolas had felt, and shown, utter shock. The Lord of the Shadows. Harry was one of the most feared and revered beings in existence. Nearly all on Middle Earth knew the tale of the umbrae and their Lord, whether they believed it or not. But that was all it had become, a tale told to children by their elders, a legend, then a myth, then no more than a whisper from the Land. But all knew it, even if they didn't know that they knew.

They'd kept it to themselves however. Telling the warriors, who really weren't warriors at all, that the Umbrae had come to foretell a grievous battle and perhaps the end of the world would not be good for their morale. If Harry had come to fight, well, that would be a different matter. Be he had not.

Legolas was startled out of his thoughts by the blowing of a horn. His thoughts of Harry fled as he strung his bow and aimed it over the battlements, only to see something that he had not expected. The Orcs had come closer, yes, but not yet close enough. Instead, lined up orderly outside the Walls of Helms Deep, were Elves, dressed in a deep blue and ready for battle.

Legolas raced from the parapet, heart in his head, and almost ran straight into Aragorn and Gimli. The man just grinned roguishly at him and ran on, Legolas and Gimli following behind. When they reached the gate they found King Theoden, dazed and in awe, his people crowded behind him, whispering. Before him stood Haldir of Lorien, garbed in Armour befitting his status, a barely noticeable, partly amused smile on his face.

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. Long ago existed an alliance between elves and men, where we fought and died with each other. We have come to honour that allegiance. We are proud to fight beside men once more!"

Aragorn leaped forward to hug the elf, and Legolas replicated the action.

"Come," Theoden commanded, "We have much to speak of and little time to do so."

They sat in the chamber, the King and his advisor, the three members of the Fellowship, and Haldir. All were armoured, with chain mail and sword, though Gimli, of course, had his axe and Legolas his bow. None spoke, lost in thoughts of death and destruction and impending doom. Theoden, however, eventually stood and addressed the room.

"I thank you most deeply for the help you offer us. We thought we would stand alone, and we were bereft of hope. But unexpected allies have sprung to our aid, and you will be remembered always in Rohan, if any live to remember it."

"Many will live to remember it," Aragorn said sharply, "For not even Oruk-ai are a match for the Elves, and the courage of men far exceeds the fatal arrogance of Orc. Not lightly, either, does the axe of a Dwarf fall."

"And more help is coming." Legolas reminded them, "Remember Gandalf's words? He will come and help with him."

"Aid unlooked for comes also." This from Haldir, who smirked secretively. "I have been commanded not to speak of it, but the name alone would make all the legions of Saurons army cower. Sauron himself will be most wary, and Saruman commands no magic that can defeat this ally. The time for despair has passed. We will not easily be defeated."

"When will he come, this 'unforeseen ally'?" Asked Theoden's advisor.

"None know. He arrives serendipitously and at his own will, but my Lady says he would have crossed into the Riddermark by now. He will come."

"Then we mu-"

A horn blew. Close, far, far too close. And this time it was no ally.

"Let us hope he arrives soon," Theoden said, standing and adjusting his armour before grasping his sword too tightly, "Or he will find only the dead."

With those oh so cheerful words the King swept out of the room, his advisor following.

"I and my people have been positioned on the parapet, for archery is where we are most skilled. And you?"

"We, too, are positioned there, for I am to command the men." Said Aragorn.

"Then let us away, or battle will start without us." Grumbled Gimli gripping his axe, a feral look in his eye.

Legolas just refrained from rolling his eyes. "And we couldn't have that now could we?"

**Rohan**

The boy was eating some of the dried meat the Elves had packed. The Noctis was grazing lightly and Harry was sat cross legged on the floor, frowning heavily and making sighing noises every few minutes, ignoring the rain that splattered against the shield he had erected around them.

"What's wrong sir?" Rhinad asked. He was still wary around the Lord, but had lost most of the instinctive apprehension and suspicion that he felt around strangers.

"What's right?" Harry snapped, and the boy flinched back from the force of his anger, looking down and shuffling his feet.

"Sorry, it's not your fault, I'm just a bit…It doesn't matter. And my names not Sir, it's Harry. Sir makes me feel old." Not that you're not, his mind whispered.

"Maybe I 'an help," Rhinad offered quietly. Harry was ready to snap at the boy again, but than remembered how he himself had been during the war with Voldemort. He had ended up leading the light side, but before that he had been left out, never knowing what was happening. Only aware that people everywhere were dying, and that he was doing nothing, safe and useless.

"Ok," Harry said, surprising the 13 year old. "Sit."

The boy dropped eagerly to the ground, his enthusiasm obvious.

"Right then, know anything about battles?"

The boy nodded slowly. "My father 's one o' king Theoden's guards at Edoras. He used to tell me the tales o' the old battles, explainin' strategy an' the like. I'm no expert though…"

"You know more than I did when I went into my first battle." He didn't bother mentioning that that was only because he had forgotten.

"So, I am heading to a battle, a battle fought with sword and bow and by creatures I have never met. While I am extremely capable with a sword, I cannot use a bow and prefer to use magic." Surprisingly, the boy neither exclaimed nor flinched away. Harry supposed that the Noctis was a bit of a give away the he was not what he appeared. Not to mention that, while Rhinad couldn't see the shield, he could clearly see the rain being diverted. "I am allowed with me only thirty warriors, all of whom, I am told, are brilliant fighters. We will most likely reach Helms Deep mid battle, as such I would like to make the biggest impact possible with our numbers. Unfortunately, I have only a vague idea of how to go about this. Any ideas?"

When he put it like that, Harry suddenly felt a flash of nervousness run through him. Not fear, because what did he have to lose? But nervousness, because so may were once again counting on him, and he had no idea what he was doing. And while Rhinad was young, he knew more about how wars were thought in Middle Earth than Harry did.

The boy was chewing his lip, a habit Mrs Weasley had constantly admonished Harry for, and he was concentrating extremely hard. Since the child probably knew that what he was about to say could change the tide of a battle, Harry was not surprised that he wanted time to think over it.

Finally, Rhinad looked up, face set and determined. When he spoke his voice was young and scared, but resolute with grim determination.

"We don't 'ave many numbers"- Harry smiled at the 'we'- "so we need to surprise 'em. They won't be expectin' an attack from be'ind, 'specially not from who ever these warriors are."

Very perceptive, Harry thought approvingly.

"We…we need to break their lines, so we 'ave to attack the weakest spot, an' 'ope they leave their formation. Then on, it'll be like any other battle."

"Except," Harry supplied, "I have magic, and they do not. But I'll decide when to use it. I'm just not sure if I want to draw so much attention to myself so early on in the war."

_It cannot be helped my Lord._

The whisper was in his mind, he knew, and a quick, surreptitious glance at Rhinad confirmed it.

_Why?_

_Because all ready the trees whisper of your coming, and those whispers will be carried to Mordor. You are needed, my Lord, to bring hope to the people, as well as skill. They need to be able to proclaim your name as an ally, to know that the Lord of the Umbrae is with them. They cannot do this if they know not who you are._

_Then when shall I do the 'proclaiming'?_

_When you ride into the battle on a Noctis, garbed in the armour that you have worn since time began, at the head of thirty Umbrae, I assure you, my Lord, the proclaiming will be done for you. We will unfurl your standard, however, as a precaution._

_I have a standard- ow- and armour?_

_Of course. You are the Warrior of the Gods. They would not let you ride into battle unannounced. _

_Well that's –ow!- good I suppose. Have Caraythus bring it to me. I give him the job of choosing the other twenty nine to accompany me. At the moment, he can choose far better than I._

_As you wish my Lord._

_Oh and- ow! Why do I keep hurting?- meet me in half an hour. We should be almost upon the battle then._

"Ow!" This time he spoke out loud, and he rubbed his arm, glaring ferociously at it as if it was it's own fault. Then his mind caught up, and he realised he recognised the pain.

"Why were you poking me?" He demanded, sounding strangely childish as he pouted. Rhinad blushed lightly, but he was grinning and didn't look at all apologetic.

"Well," He said innocently, "I tried callin' yer name but ya din't answer. So…I tried a different way. Which, obviously worked."

Harry just glared, but he wasn't angry, and stood up, offering a hand and pulling Rhinad up.

"Come up, we gotta go. My people are meeting us there. And I need to decide what to do with you."

"Do wit' me? I'm not an object!"

"No, but your not a soldier either, as much as you like to act like one. You're only 13."

"But ya can't just leave me standin' somewhere."

"No, and I don't have a spare horse." Harry sighed and thought it over, glancing at the boy every now and then.

"Right, sit in front of me. Don't get off, don't get in my way, and unless it's to dodge a blow, don't move. Got it?"

The boy looked puzzled. "Got what?"

Apparently the Common Tongue in Middle Earth was not as butchered as the English language.

"It means do you understand." The boy nodded straight away, and Harry hoisted him up onto Cameo. "Hold onto her mane. It won't hurt her." Indeed, she didn't seem to take any notice of the extra weight, only rolling her shoulders to move Rhinad into a better position. Harry reached around him to pat her neck and make sure he could grab her mane if necessary. "It's a good job you're so small." He commented, "Otherwise we'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble."

Then he spurred Cameo forward and away they went.

The last miles of the trip seemed to pass far too quickly, the landscape blurring into a whirl of colour and the wind screaming constantly in their ears. When they reached the top of the hill Harry had to put a hand over Rhinad's mouth to cover the shout.

"Be quite you idiot! Do you want them to know we're here?"

The boy whimpered softly, trying to hide it, and Harry sighed, sliding off Cameo's back and lifting the utterly terrified boy off. However, Rhinad seemed determined not to let go of Cameo's mane, and Harry had to gently pry his small fingers off the strands of hair.

"Come on kid, it's not so bad."

"We're doomed," The boy cried, "We're all gonna die! My fathers in there, an' me mam an' sisters. There's too many o' them an' not enough o' us."

"Numbers don't win a war." Harry said, quoting something he had been told many a time and had scoffed at each.

"They 'elp." Rhinad said.

"Yeah," Harry murmured under his breath, "That's what I said."

Then he hugged the 13 year old, who suddenly looked so much younger and whispered in his ear, "Just do what I told you and you'll be fine."

He wanted to say 'I promise', but he had learnt long ago not to make promises he wasn't sure he could keep. He went to whisper some more useless reassurances, when he felt a changing in the air and looked up. Despite himself, his eyes widened.

They looked magnificent! Strong and imposing and beautiful and achingly familiar. They were sat on steeds of darkness, solid but not quite, as the Umbrae themselves were. It was the first time Harry had seen more than one solid, and he found he could easily distinguish which were male and which female, could easily distinguish the characteristics that made them different. Even the strange, not quite horses yet not Nocti, looked different, in the way that horses were distinguishable if one knew what to look for.

As one the horses bent their forelegs, bowing, as their riders bowed in their seats. When they had risen, one rode forward, carrying a male of armour in his hand. Then he, Caraythus, went down on one knee and presented the armour to him. With a murmured thank you Harry took it, and looked it over wordlessly. It was made of glimmering black, reminiscent of obsidian in look but with a feel that told Harry it was something far stronger and more magical. On the front was a coat of arms, and Harry recognised it as soon as he saw it, recognised it as something he had worn in thousands, perhaps millions of battles, knew what it stood for. Was aware that none but he could wear it. It was simple, something which had surprised people before, but it was memorable and distinguishable, proclaiming who he was, and wasn't that the whole point?

He traced a hand over the design, a shining silver, and mentally reminded himself of what it meant. A sun, for he was as the day was, light and freeing, helping those in need and hindering the enemies who preferred to skulk in darkness. A crescent moon, outlined in red lay adjacent, for he was as the night, sly and cunning, a thing to be feared by those who walked with malice. He was both night and day, light and dark, the perfect combination of yin and yang. Or so his creators said. Harry didn't know if it was true anymore.

Under that was a sword, for he was a warrior, who fought to destroy the evil and crush the enemies of the gods. Above was a shield, for above all he was a protector, of life and freedom and all those who needed him. Surrounding that were nine stars, seven in silver, two in gold. The seven gods and goddesses and the two Elder, the two that came before else. Because he was created by them, belonged to them, did their will, and was protected by them. To fight against the Lord of the Umbrae was to fight against the gods themselves.

Harry put the armour on on top of his dragon skin, and in that moment he was the Lord Calhoun once more, Lord of the Umbrae, Protector of the Worlds. He put on the gauntlets he was offered, both baring the coat of arms and made out of the same thing as the armour, though far more flexible. He strapped the sword to his hip, the opposite side to the sword of Gryfindor, which he now kept on his person instead of summoning.

He put his hair into a tight ponytail, though strands fell around his face which he tucked behind his ears. As he looked back to the Umbrae, ignoring the look of awe on Rhinad's face, he noticed the two standards baring his design, unfurled and fluttering in the wind, untouched by the rain, which avoided the whole group.

"Are we ready?"

"Yes my Lord." They answered as one.

"We attack the weak spot and break the formation." Caraythus continued. Harry nodded sharply and leapt gracefully up onto Cameo, reaching down to lift up Rhinad.

"Let them slash and snarl and taunt," Harry growled, words a familiar taste in his mouth, "We are not afraid. They will soon feel the wrath of the Lord of the Shadows, and the umbrae. Their fear will make the ground shake."

Then he screamed out a war cry as Cameo threw her head back and screamed fiercely. Then, the promise of battle flowing through their veins, they charged.

The Orcs didn't notice them, and Harry grinned, eyes feral, as his sword pierced the back of one of the hideous creatures. The Umbrae followed not a second behind, and Harry continued to slash indiscriminately, his swords cleaving both flesh and bone, littering the Earth with mangled limbs and painting the trampled grass a brilliant red.

**The Walls,Helms Deep, The northern valley of the White Mountains, to the southeast of the Gap of Rohan**

The cry had reached the three of the Fellowship and they raced to look over the edge of the battlements, to spot the stranger that had joined the battle. It was hard to see through the pouring rain and the blur as bodies seemed to bleed into one, but as he sliced the neck of an orc with his knife Legolas finally caught the design on the Standard.

"It's Harry!" He told his companions, shocked and happy and angry and so, so confused.

"The Lord of the Umbrae fights with us." This from Aragorn who spoke with a reverence that Legolas had rarely heard.

Yet Legolas didn't know how he felt, and in the heat of battle he had no time to decide. No matter how much he wished to just watch Harry and ponder, he had no time, and so blocking all thoughts not pertaining to battle, he threw an orc off the walls and ran into the thick of the fighting.

It was only minutes later when he heard the shout, panicked and urgent, from Aragorn.

"Stop him!"

The elf turned, slashing and cutting, as he tried to reach his friend.

"Get him down! Stop him!"

But there seemed to be a million orc between them, and Legolas could only listen as the cries grew more panicked.

**The Field,Helms Deep, The northern valley of the White Mountains, to the southeast of the Gap of Rohan**

"My Lord!"

Harry turned to the Umbra, whose name he didn't know, and cocked an eyebrow, never stopping in his relentless massacre of the Orc. Rhinad was shivering in front of him, clutching Cameo's mane while keeping his eyes screwed shut, blocking out the horror before him.

"The Orc needs to be stopped."

So Harry turned to where the Umbra was looking, and saw an Orc running towards the wall, carrying a large…thing, that reminded Harry, uncomfortably, of a bomb. He judged the distance. Impossible, he would never reach him in time. Then, as his thoughts despaired he remembered a little something he kept up his sleeve. Literally.

"Cover me!" He shouted, and he backed up into the now clear space behind him. He bent over, standing up slightly in the stirrups to reach Cameo's ear.

"When I say rear," He told the Noctis, "Rear up on your hind legs."

The Noctis snorted and nodded, and Harry watched as the Orc kept running. It was past the middle of the battle now, and was surrounded by mostly Orc. Still, there were both men and Elves there. But not in front. In front a way had been cleared by the orc, and only the enemy stood there.

"A bit more…a bit more….1…2…3…REAR!"

And as Cameo reared onto her hind legs, putting Harry above the battle, he whipped out his wand and screamed.

"REDUCTO!"

The red light flew from his wand and over the heads of both orc, man, and elf. Time seemed to slow, movements seemed sluggish, as he waited for it to hit its target. Hoped that it hit its target.

It had flown true.

It hit the bomb as the Orc ran into the line of its allies and it exploded, throwing fire. None had anticipated it. They couldn't escape. As the bomb blew up, so did the Orcs.

All was utter chaos.


	12. Have you seen me lately?

He took a few seconds to savour the chaos he had just caused. The battle seemed to have frozen, or at least, on Rohan's side. The orcs were running, screaming, fleeing, few recognising the Standard that the Umbrae held, but all recognising a wielder of great magic. The archers on the walls quickly shook themselves out of their stupor and took advantage of the lull in the Uruk -hai's attack, shooting arrow after arrow relentlessly. The orcs ladders were pushed down, crushing those on the ground, and a miniature battle raged on the walls, as orcs tried to push through into the keep.

It should have been easy to win now. While the orcs still had the greater numbers, they were out skilled and panicked. But that was something Harry had forgotten to add to the equation. The complete utter panic that had overridden all of their logical, or somewhat, thought. Only one thought was left in their minds. Survival.

Some fled, running into the wood and back the way they had come. But the rest, the rest knew they had nothing to lose. Death awaited them from in front and behind. They only had a choice as to whether to face the wrath of their master, or push forward, with barely a chance of survival. They pushed forward.

It was a slaughter. There was no other word for it. No words that could do it justice. Man, elf, orc, all fell to sword and arrow, a scream on their dying lips. Harry ignored the blood that was running down his forearm from a slash that had cut to the bone. He swung his sword, neatly decapitating an orc, whose head he grabbed to smash into the face of another. He grabbed the reins suddenly as Cameo bucked, kicking her rear legs out so that they shattered the face of an orc. Wait, reins? He leaned down onto her neck as she kicked out again, patting her neck, a neck that was covered in blood dripping armour. However, Harry didn't have time to ponder over the sudden appearance of tack and armour, he noticed something more important.

He could lean over. Rhinad was gone. He searched frantically for the boy, weaving in between the fighting, but could not see him. But he knew in his heart. Rhinad could not survive a battle on his own. Harry screamed angry, so, so angry. They would pay for this.

He sheathed the sword of Gryffindor, and once again took out his wand. "Ready to do some damage Cameo?" Without waiting for some sign of an answer, he urged her forward, and she cantered over the stiff bodies of the newly dead, the whimpering bodies of the dieing, as he slashed with the sword of the gods and cursed with the wand of a wizard.

"AVADA KEDAVRA! REDUCTO! EXPELIARMUS! TIMOR! IGNIS!"

And he laughed manically and taunted in languages he scarcely remembered. "Fugio! Curro! Timeo! Scelesta militis! Run foolish creatures, or face the wrath of the Lord of the Umbrae, for you will not fight me and live!"

And most fled from his path, unable to withstand the power that was crackling in the air. Those who accepted his challenge quickly regretted it. So entranced was he, with battle rage boiling his blood, that he did not see the surprised flick of Cameo's ears, taking no notice of where she lead as long as there was enemies to kill. It took a fairly powerful buck that almost dislodged him for Harry to gain back a little logic and sense.

He looked up and saw a sight that made his eyes flame and dance at the same time. There, on his knees, an orc axe about to roughly cleave his neck from his shoulders, was Rhinad. Cameo raced forward with a speed few steeds possessed, and Harry leapt off of the saddle, holding tightly onto the reins and her mane, as he half ran, half near flew, along the ground. He grabbed Rhinad without stopping, not listening to the orc's roar of anger, and threw the boy up onto the saddle. But it had slowed him down, and there was either too much or not enough momentum for him to lift himself back up onto the Noctis back. And he knew, as he hacked away with the sword that he had grabbed in his free hand, he couldn't sustain the pace much longer. His legs would give way,

"I order you to take him to safety." He hissed in Cameo's ear, knowing that if he only asked she would ignore it in favour of staying with him. Instead she snorted angrily, but obeyed, not stopping the frantic gallop. Harry felt a flash of relief, then felt his foot connect with something hard, and he found himself falling, and he hit the ground hard. Yet, somehow, he couldn't let go of the reins. He had wound them around his wrist. He was dragged along the floor, through mud and blood and the bodies that stared at him with mournful eyes as he was dragged over and around them. He struggled frantically, terror finding a place in his heart, and he felt like screaming as the smell of death filled his nostrils, the taste of blood and dirt filled his mouth.

With an almighty wrench, and a disgusting snap, the reins broke away from the bridle as he almost pulled Cameo over on top of him. But the Noctis steadied herself and kept on as asked, leaving Harry to lie on his back in the decay.

He breathed quickly, too quickly, but his lungs were telling him he needed oxygen and it didn't seem to matter that he didn't need to breathe. At that moment, if he didn't breathe, his mind told him he'd die. He regretted it as soon as he inhaled the nauseous, fetid air, which tasted of something not unfamiliar to him. He pushed off the ground with his hand then screamed, truly screamed, as a jagged pain resonated through his arm and he collapsed back to the floor. He hadn't felt his wrist snap, but the pain and the strange angle told him it was definitely broken, along with his arm.

At that moment he wanted nothing more than just to lie there, surrounded by fresh corpses and rivers of blood. He wanted to fall in to a blessed unconsciousness and not remember this battle, which he knew probably paled in comparison to some he had lived before, but those he did not remember and this was far, far too real. He had thought the war against Voldemort had been a nightmare come true. Now he knew that was just child's play, a fight fought by spoiled brats in the school playground, who were arrogant enough to assume no one had it worse than them. Now Harry knew better, he didn't remember worse than this.

His eyes widened as he saw the grotesque face above him that was leering with a suggestive grin. "Hello pretty thing. My Master would like a word with you." Harry tried to push himself up with the other hand but it was buried under a pile of bodies, numb and unusable. He tried to use his legs to push himself backwards, but they too were inoperative, worn from running at a pass no man could run. He looked up at the orc, and Harry knew that deep within his emerald eyes, there was fear.

He wasn't quite sure why he was scared, terrified, shacking. He knew that he wouldn't die, wouldn't be permanently harmed, so what did it matter? It shouldn't. But it did, because he knew he did not have the knowledge to escape the towers of either Sauron or Saruman. They were warded with magic far more complicated than he could remember, and while he was confident that eventually he would be able to rip them apart with pure magical strength, he did not have the luxury of languishing in a cell as he chipped away. The war would halt for no one. And Harry would not leave them to fight alone.

He pushed himself up into the air so he was lying only on the top of his back, his shoulders and his neck. Then he used his weight to push himself over backwards so he was on his knees, and as the orc lunged with a sword Harry angled himself out of the way and kicked his leg out, hitting the orc in the knees. The orc was heavy, too heavy to stop itself tumbling forward into the orc in front, who stumbled himself, starting a mini game of live dominoes.

But really, this didn't help Harry much. He was still on the floor, though now on his knees, and he had dislodged his hand from the pile, the reason why it was now flooded with little tingling pains as the blood rushed through into his slightly purple hand.

"Some help would be useful," He muttered to himself, but he knew unless he called out none would come, and calling would only distract others. Best to sort out the problem himself. He tried to keep low on the ground as he regained use of his left hand. When it was fully functional he tried to grab his wand from the wrist holster. Unfortunately, the holster was n his left wrist and he couldn't bend his hand that far. After a few moments of embarrassment trying to grab it, he eventually just used his teeth and pulled it out, before grabbing it tightly, feeling suddenly stronger as he held it. The Umbrae had once told him he didn't need his wand, that it was only a crutch used by wizards to channel magic stronger than their bodies could take, but Harry could remember no other way, and while it would have been incredibly useful, he had not the time to learn.

He finally could stand up, and he surveyed the battle, noticing with interest and confusion that no orc had come to attack him. Then he suddenly had to leap out of the way as a man ran straight at him, sword clutched in his hand. Harry called out, but the man, who Harry thought looked far too old to be in a battle, took no notice. It was as if he was wearing his invisibility cloak, or a notice- me-not charm, which Harry abruptly realised would have been helpful. But he wasn't so he didn't know why people acted as if he wasn't there. What had happened? He didn't…he hadn't…he…knew?

_He was sat cross legged on the lush grass, watching a spider scurry over his hand as the wind blew through his midnight locks. He looked up as he heard a melodious chuckle, and smiled with utter adoration as he looked into swirling purple eyes. "Such a fascination with creatures my darling, great and small. Love them well my son, and they will love you too."_

_He held out his arms to her, beseeching her to pick him up, and she smiled as she lifted the 5 year old into her arms. He was silent as he laid his head on her shoulder, twirling a hand in her long, ebony tresses. _

"_Such a special child you are. My brilliant, beautiful Calhoun. We were so worried when we couldn't find you. But I suppose it was our fault. We created you to have command over the shadows and what use would that be if you couldn't weave them to your will? I and your father have been watching for signs since your birth, though this is earlier than I had expected._

_It is a useful gift Calhoun, to hide yourself in plain view. The shadows will always protect you, whether you know it or not. I will always protect you…"_

Well, Harry supposed that mostly answered the question, as well as some of his wondering thoughts about what he actually gained from being the Shadow Lord. But he wanted to join the fight again, and if he was not seen he was liable to get cleaved by someone on his own side, let alone the enemy. He wanted to be seen! Then he felt something attempt to pierce his back, a sharp something that grated along the armour, eliciting sparks from the friction. Harry pointed his arm over his shoulder and lazily said the killing curse. That solved the problem of becoming visible.

He heard cries and caught words, 'dawn' and 'mithrandir, 'white rider' too, so he turned to where faces watched in awe and saw a man garbed in snow white robes sat upon a steed of strength and pride, a pure white stallion. He looked harder, squinting, and his eyes widened as he recognised the face.

"Why Gandalf," He murmured, "How you've changed. It seems much happened since I left." Then beside Gandalf appeared a rider wearing the armour of Rohan, gleaming golden hair flowing in waves to his shoulders.

"Éomer," He heard a man shout beside him.

"He is the Kings nephew." Said Caraythus, as he suddenly seemed to appear at Harry's elbow. They watched together as the two charged down, followed by many more golden haired men. "These are the men that were banished from Rohan by the King, though his mind was not his own. Saruman's reach is far indeed."

"Perhaps," Harry said, "But I think he will find it much lessened now. Could I have a lift?" He asked grinning.

The Umbra smiled slightly back, but gestured behind his Lord. "It is not needed."

For trotting leisurely towards them, untouched, was Cameo. She butted her head against Harry hard and he stumbled, but he laughed and stroked her and kissed her nuzzle. "Nice to see you girl." And he swung up onto the Noctis as the éored crashed against the orcs like waves. This battle was over.

The umbrae had lined up behind him in lines of five, all thirty present and correct with their mounts. They needed to make the perfect impression. And they did. The Umbrae looked as they had before the battle, black and beautiful, as if carved from marble. The Umbrae on the ends of the first line held the Standards, black with the silver design, fluttering in the wind. Harry himself was at the front, perfectly in the middle. His long, midnight black hair had long since fallen out of the ponytail and it now fell in slight waves to the bottom of his shoulder blades. He had spelled the blood off of his armour, though left it on his skin. He liked the effect it gave to see his pale face splattered with crimson. His arm and wrist had been healed by a mixture of his magic and his fast natural healing ability, though it hurt like hell, and Harry would be careful not to use it for anything strenuous for a while. Cameo was still clad in the harness and saddle that had miraculously appeared on her, and looked nothing if not deadly.

Satisfied, Harry nodded and they made their way up the causeway. Most of the soldiers had already gone inside the Hornburg, but somewere still in the Dike, tending the wounded or naming the dead. They stopped to watch the Lord of the Umbrae, in fear and awe. But Harry looked not at them. He kept his face blank and looked only straight ahead.

The gate was already open and they marched forward, ignoring the spectators, and continued on until, finally, they were met. Before the stood Théoden King of Rohan, and beside him Éomer, his nephew, a blond elf who Caraythus had told him was Haldir of lothlorien, Gandalf, and Aragorn, and Gimli, and…Legolas. And Legolas.

It was hard, to stop himself looking at the face that was so determinedly not looking at him, but he knew that there were more important things to be thinking about, so he kept his eyes on the King, bowing, but not too low, keeping his head up.

"Théoden, son of Thengel, King of Rohan, First Marshal of the Mark, it is a pleasure to meet you here on this day of Legend."

"Well met Harry Potter, Child of the gods, Lord of the Umbrae, Protector of the Worlds, it is my great honour to welcome you here, this place of my ancestors."

Harry smiled slightly, bowing his head, and would have liked to leave it there, but propriety demanded he greet each one in turn since the King deemed them important enough to stand by his side.

"Greetings Éomer of the house of Eorl, son of Éomund, Third Marshal of the Riddermark."

"Greetings Harry Potter, Child of the gods, Lord of the Umbrae, Protector of the Worlds."

He turned to the elf Haldir and they both bowed and while he knew it not at the time, it was in Haldir's native tongue that Harry spoke then.

"Greetings Haldir, Marchwarden of the Galadhrim of Lórien."

"My sincerest greetings Calhoun, Child of the gods Aysel and Dayvon, and all of the nine, Chosen of the Valor, Lord of the Umbrae, Protector of the Worlds"

The Elves definitely knew more about Harry than the men, though that surprised none. He looked to Gandalf now, so different.

"Greetings Gandalf the White, Stormcrow, the White Rider, Greyhame, Mithrandir, Tharkûn, Olórin, Incánus, second of the Istari."

Harry decided that Gandalf had far too many names.

"Greetings Calhoun, Child of the gods Aysel and Dayvon, and all of the nine, Chosen of the Valor, Lord of the Umbrae, Protector of the Worlds, Harry Potter."

Aragorn bowed low, and Harry did the same. While they had not had much time to become acquainted, Harry had come to like the courageous man, who surely would have been a Gryffindor.

"Greetings Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Strider, Elessar , Estel, Isildur's Heir, Telcontar , Thorongil , Chieftain of the Dúnadain."

"Greetings Calhoun, Child of the gods Aysel and Dayvon, and all of the nine, Chosen of the Valor, Lord of the Umbrae, Protector of the Worlds, Harry Potter."

Then he turned to Gimli, and the Dwarf grinned roguishly at him.

"Greetings Gimli, son of Gloin, of the house of Durin."

"Greetings Calhoun, Child of the gods Aysel and Dayvon, and all the nine, Chosen of the Valor, Lord of the Umbrae, Protector of the Worlds, Harry Potter."

And finally, the last. And by the gods was it the hardest. His face was blank, he knew this, as was Legolas', but he was not sure if he could keep it that way.

"Greetings Legolas, son of King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm of Northern Mirkwood, of the Sindar." The most beautiful creature I have ever seen.

"Greetings Calhoun, Child of the gods Aysel and Dayvon, and all of the nine, Chosen of the Valor, Lord of the Umbrae, Protector of the Worlds, Harry Potter."

The elf's voice was stiff and cold, not surprising, but strangely hurtful all the same. Aragorn and Gimli especially seemed surprised at the tone, and at the awkwardness that was almost touchable between them.

"We must speak." The King said, when Harry and Legolas showed no signs of stopping their staring contest. Harry nodded sharply and they headed into the Hornburg. "My men will tend to you horses."

_Caraythus,_ Harry asked the Umbra in his head.

_Yes my Lord?_

_Are all thirty of you needed right now?_

_Nay. Truly, you need not any of us._

_Then I would ask you to leave, for now at least. You're making them nervous._

_As you wish my Lord._

And so the Umbrae and their steeds seemed to melt into the shadows, steadily becoming less solid, until they were only distinguishable from the shadows by the pure blackness of their colour, as opposed to the blacky grey of the shadows. All of those watching had drawn back with a gasp.

"The Umbrae are not needed for this," He offered in way of explanation. "But I would be grateful if Cameo was fed and groomed."

The King gestured, and a middle aged man with dark blond hair and sharp brown eyes came forward to take the Noctis. Cameo reared back with a whinny, and the man stumbled backwards, tripping, looking up with horror as the gigantic mare stared down at him.

"Cameo!" Harry admonished harshly. He tugged at her bridle, drawing her away from the man and back to all fours. He looked her straight in the eye and spoke. "That was not needed, but now that I come to think of it, neither is he. You harness and armour appeared unannounced and so should it leave, you are in no need, and I have never seen you in need, of grooming. However, this man will not touch you, and you will follow him and stay with the horses until we leave, understood?"

None of them seemed to think it strange that he was speaking to his mount, except perhaps Gimli. Indeed, Gandalf was smiling gently and spoke also. "You will be in the company of some of the most valiant horses in middle Earth, though none are as beautiful as you, and my own steed Shadowfax patiently resides there."

Cameo seemed to perk up at the words, though whether at the blatant flattery, or the mention of Shadowfax ,Harry didn't know. So he just kissed her wet nose and gently pushed her in the direction of the man who walked just in front of her, warily looking behind every few seconds.

"The Nocti, as all horses, always have been rather arrogant creatures. I had forgotten to try flattery." But of course Harry had forgotten that it would be of use, and why did he suddenly remember now? Perhaps that was what the Lady of Lorien had meant when she had said memories will return unnoticed?

"Shall we discuss in someplace more private?"

They first recounted the battle and each learnt things they hadn't known: The saving of Haldir by Aragorn, the death of Hama, the king's advisor and commander, and much more. Harry and Gandalf had known the least since they had joined late, but they both listened well. They spoke a little of Gandalf's journey and the finding of Éomer, before they unexpectedly turned to a different subject.

"My Lord Calhoun," Aragorn said suddenly, "A boy was deposited inside the gates towards the end of the battle, so the men say, on a steed of darkness. Would you know of this?"

Harry smiled, suddenly remembering Rhinad who had seemed so far from his thoughts.

"Yes I would. I found him on the journey here and told Cameo to take him to safety, mid battle."

"And how did you get here?" This from Legolas who was watching him intently.

In answer Harry asked his own question. "How much do they know?"

"As much as I concerning the Lord of the Umbrae." The blond elf answered. So nothing of what had happened between them.

"Fine, then I will start where Legolas would have finished the part containing me, in the Chamber."

He took a deep breath, readying to tell the tale as quickly and correctly as possible and than began.

"I spent many weeks, -or was that months- in the chamber, with only the Umbrae for company, and they were not in the solid form. I never took the portal back to Earth, because, when I truly thought of it, there was nothing awaiting me there. And eventually, I learnt that that was not even really my home. I learnt who I was.

I will shorten that story for I do not wish to speak of it. Suffice to say thousands of years ago in a different world, which I do not know, I fell in love with a mortal, fell in love for the first time, despite being, I don't know, a few million years old? However, said mortal broke my heart, and after a year of languishing in sorrow, I tried to kill myself. I failed, for I am strictly immortal, but I went to the gods and begged release from life. They refused, citing the end and undoing of worlds as their reason, but gave me an alternative. To put my soul to sleep, to be reawakened as a child many a year later when I was needed.

Obviously, I woke up 17 years ago, but I had no knowledge of who I was until I was told by the Umbrae that day. It was then I made my decision. I would fight in this war. I went first to Rivendell, for I was told a Nocti resided there, and from there Cameo and I went on to Rohan. We found no life until we reached a village where we found Rhinad alone, his family having fled without realising he had not. Then, as you know, we rode to battle, having made the decision to proclaim my title, though few of the orc seemed to recognise it.

Rhinad stayed with me for much of the battle, but at a point I noticed he was gone. We eventually found him about to be killed, and I pulled a rather dangerous stunt to throw him onto Cameo. Unfortunately, I myself could not get back up and had to let go, after being dragged for a while. From then on all is as would be expected in a battle."

The group looked thoughtful, none more so than Legolas, and the king was stroking his small beard.

"Rhinad? I know this name…"

"If it helps his father was one of your guards at…Edoras."

Then Théoden's eyes widened and he was suddenly bowed with sadness.

"I remember now. Rhinad, son of Hama. His father loved him much and spoke of him often, or, did so before Saruman stole my mind. His family reside below in the glittering caves. He has most likely been taken there, so he may find them, though I am not aware if they yet know of Hama's death."

"The death of a father is always hard." This from Éomer, who seemed to be remembering a time long since passed. All but Legolas, Gandalf and Gimli carried the same look, all having lost their fathers young. It didn't matter to Harry that James Potter was only his father because the gods had decided as such, James had loved him enough to die for him, and Harry would never forget that.

"There is much to be done," said Théoden finally, "But I am tired and so are my men, so we will rest and eat and lament the dead whose mound has already been made. You may all go where you please, and you need only asked to be directed to the mess hall. It is early morning now so we will have a days rest and leave tomorrow morning."

"Leave for where?" Harry asked.

"Isengard!"

He was stood on the Deeping wall, looking out onto the field that was being claimed by carrion, though only orc remained there now, the bodies of man and elf having been buried in a mound. They had neither the time nor the tools to build a cairn. The sky was a deep blue, clear and cloudless, the colours of dawn long having bled into one. The ground was littered with bodies of Orcs and their weapons, along with the ladders they had used to scale the walls. The streams of blood had started to soak into the ground, leaving the dirt and grass forever stained a bloody red that would take five years worth of rain to wash off. That was another thing. The rain had stopped as soon as the battle had ended. Harry wished the gods would stop interfering. Pathetic fallacy was all well and good in films, but in real life it was nothing but annoying.

He heard footsteps echo on the stone, but he didn't turn, for no enemies resided in Helms Deep, and what harm could they do to him even if they did?

"It's such a beautiful day for the mess that was made." Harry said, letting whoever it was know that Harry knew he was there. But nothing was said, no movement was made, and Harry didn't turn around. "The Earth will long remember the blood that was shed here, and the trees will whisper of the horrors to the end of their lives. These are days of legend, the first battle in the second war against Sauron."

It was one of the first times he had truly thought about it being the second war. They had thought Sauron defeated and he was not, just as Voldemort had been thought dead while he skulked in a forest in Albania. Why did people never bother to check these things? This war was so alike to the one on Earth that it was unbelievable, though he knew already that this was to be far longer and far bloodier. It was the same problem as the one he had faced before, and probably more times before that. There were just different faces, of friends, enemies, and the face of the land itself.

"The first battle," The other person said finally, and Harry froze to hear the voice that had spoken, "But definitely not the last."

"Legolas…" The name was barely a whisper, stolen by the soft breeze. And now he could not bear to turn around, could not bear to see what would be on the perfect face, whether hurt or anger or joy or hate. Because Harry wasn't sure how to deal with those emotions; he had spent the past few years trying not to feel at all.

"Will you not look at me Harry? Or are you scared of what you might see?"

And Harry dug his nails into the stone of the wall, for who was Legolas to spill Harry's thoughts from his pink lips? To know and understand what Harry was thinking when it was so hard for he himself to?

"What would I be scared of?" Harry asked finally, though he knew the answer, and Legolas was aware of this.

"Emotion dear Harry." And the voice was sardonic, gently mocking, not sounding much like the Legolas Harry had known at all. But all creatures have their emotional defensives, and Harry guessed this was the elf's. "You fear emotion more than you fear anything else. Mild emotion you can deal with, for it cannot hurt you greatly. But strong emotion you avoid at all costs, for it has hurt you deeply and that is all you think of. I suppose everyone needs something to fear and you cannot die. But while you fear the things that should mean the most you cannot live either."

"What does it matter?" Harry asked, torn between lashing out in flaming anger, and curling up against the wall and sobbing. "My existence will be spent as it was before, flitting from world to world, not staying long enough to make attachments."

"That was your choice Harry, how you decided to live, but it doesn't have to be. Why can't you see that?"

"Because I have memories of a time when I knew nothing else, and others of days spent alone and crying, tearing at my own chest in an attempt to rip out my aching heart and lay it at the feet of the gods, to make them see what I had become. I will not live like that again. I refuse to. These days I feel like I'm fading…"

"Then you are refusing to be happy, to love and laugh and just smile every once in a while. To take joy in something other than the feel of your sword biting through flesh and bone, smiting your enemies."

"I was happy before Him." Harry said, but his voice was small and sad, and so, so childlike. He didn't feel like the Lord of he Umbrae any more. He felt like Boy, who had spent his childhood huddled in the corner of a dark, suffocating cupboard, rocking back and forth while waiting for the pain to come, wishing he wasn't alone any more.

And Harry had forgotten the elves were sensitive, but Legolas had felt his turmoil and stepped towards him, slowly and cautiously winding arms around Harry's slim waist and pulling him close, Harry not bothering, not wanting, to resist. Legolas, who was taller than Harry, bent his head down so that his lips were brushing Harry's ear, his warm breath against Harry's skin.

"You can't push me away Harry," The Elf murmured. "You almost did, because I was so hurt and so angry at you being so stubborn, and I resolved to just forget you. But you're here, and so beautiful, and strong, and brave, and sad and scared, and so cold, but so vulnerable. And you try to hide all of it, but I almost wish you would fail more often, because then I see who you really are, though I'm not sure even you know any more."

Then, surprising Legolas, Harry twisted around to face him, and slammed the elf backwards, so that he hit the wall. Then, and this surprised them both, he crushed his lips against Legolas'. It was hard and rough, and Harry was holding their hands above their heads so that it was only lips, and their teeth scraped together and lips began to bleed, but neither stopped, because Legolas knew Harry needed it, and Harry didn't know how to stop.

It was filled with all the things he felt. Anger, passion, hate, though for what he didn't know, and the other emotions he truly didn't want to acknowledge, fear, and sadness, and…love. Only a little but it was there.

Then Legolas reversed their positions suddenly, so it was Harry with his back to the wall and his arms held above his head, his right arm aching gently. And the elf looked at him with beautiful blue eyes before capturing his lips gently, and this kiss was slow and calm, until Legolas slipped his tongue into Harry's waiting mouth, exploring. And he let Harry's arms go, putting his own on Harry's hips as Harry's wound around his neck, pulling him closer, though that was barely possible.

And they didn't care that the whole world could see them, for they were lost in each other, giving themselves freely to the feeling. Harry wondered if he could ever let this go. Legolas answered that he would never have to.

"I don't need you! Believe me!" Harry said roughly, when they both ended the kiss to gasp for air.

"I never said that you did." Legolas replied, "But since you're protesting it perhaps you do." And it didn't help that they were still flush against each other, Harry half leaning on the wall to steady himself.

"Fine, you may have a little piece of me, but it's just a little piece. I don't need anyone."

But Legolas just kissed him again, and Harry? He didn't protest at all, just whispered some words before the lips touched his.

"Can't you see my walls are crumbling?


	13. Anymore

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Warnings: Slash, war

A/N: So it's been over a year. Quite a long time really. But finally, an update. I don't really think it was worth the wait lol. Also, I've revised the story. I thought it was the least I could do, since some will need to re read it to even remotely remember what was going on when I left it. I couldn't remember what was going on! And wht i read was pretty shit. Good thing i found it funny rather than depressing. But also, I was 13 when I started writing this. I am 17 now, with a better understanding of spelling and grammar, and basic plot devices. I hope the difference is noticeable. The first few chapters are the most changed since they were the worst, with new lines and better flow. But all have been spell checked and such, though I still may have missed some.

And lastly, thanks to everyone who has continued to review. It does remind me continuously that I need to update. To those who personally emailed me, I apologise for the lack of reply. I wished to wait until I had a definitive answer as to the future of this story, but one never really came. So, a new chapter. Mediocre perhaps, and not particularly long, but it's a start lol. I hope everyone enjoys it J

Italics = dream sequence

HP

The ride to Isengard had been surprisingly untroubled. No orc appeared to waylay them on their journey, no wild men congregated to block their way. But little happiness could be felt, of course, for the number of dead behind them was still uncounted, yet many courageous men and elves had fallen, still entwined with the corpses of the enemy before Helms Deep.

Harry rode beside Aragorn. Beside Gimli rode Legolas, in deep discussion of the wonders of Middle Earth. Gimli had championed the Glittering Caves, a wondrous site for Dwarves, so beloved to them was stone. Captivated by the depth and age of Fangorn forest, the elf argued as any of his kindred would, for the beauty of the tall, whispering trees. Harry glanced over somewhat surreptitiously every few minutes. Legolas either did not notice, or pretended not to: the more likely of the two. After they had been disturbed on the walls Harry had slipped into cold detachment and Legolas, unused to, and unwilling to accept such behaviour, had given up trying to persuade him to talk, and instead ignored his very presence.

Despite their many years, elves were not always known for their maturity. And Legolas, young as elves counted and a Prince besides, could be forgiven his petulant countenance. He was used to getting what he wanted rather quickly, not having to chase after it with only a few scraps every now and then to keep him going. Yet Harry had affected him deeply, quickly. He had known Harry but months, many spent apart, yet the wizard had touched him more than any being in the centuries of his life. He needed time to regroup, yes, to understand this gorgeous creature better. Perhaps patience would be better than unsubtle pursuit? He sighed, but smiled at Gimli's animated arguing. He would not give up.

Harry smiled slightly as they entered the defeated Isengard. Merry and Pippin sat casually in the midst of the destruction, chatting happily and smoking a pipe. He was well aware that such moments of casual serenity were rare in war, and was pleasantly surprised to note how sturdy hobbits were. To go through such a journey, be captured by orcs, and witness the fury of the Ents whilst still retaining the joy of youth? Strong minds indubitably. Perhaps there was hope for the ring bearer. Perhaps there was hope for Middle Earth.

Harry sat up straight as they neared the Ents. Most looked relatively unharmed, a few burnt branches here and there, and he was relieved. The last march of the Ents they may have said, but there was much, much time left for them. The disappearance of such a race would be of great sorrow to this world, even if most had forgotten them. The trees would run completely wild, yes, trees with angry minds and blackened hearts could make the woods of Middle Earth impassable, more than perilous. But the Ents were also one of the oldest races, and the loss of their knowledge and lore would be great.

He returned from his thoughts as Treebeard turned to him and bowed, rumbling out a greeting in Old Entish. Harry returned the welcome, his vocal cords somehow able to the same language as the Ent. The others looked on confused. They spoke of times long forgotten, legends and myth that very few now knew the truth off. They spoke as old friends come together after many years apart, and it struck the remaining members of the Fellowship how different Harry was to the stoic man they left in Moria.

Eventually, they bowed again and stepped back, Harry's head filled with the changes to Middle Earth, the loss of the Entwives and much of the elves, and the dignity of men. He resolved to visit Tom Bombadil. One of the eldest of this world, he always knew more than he should about things others would consider meaningless. He held a different kind of wisdom to that of Gandalf and the Istari. He lent his mind to loftier things, though mostly less useful. Things that had little impact on the present world, but would be the end of all if left to their own business for centuries. When you are as old as he, centuries are the near future. You no longer count the hours of the sun.

Harry now noticed the eyes boring into his back, as they had been for the last five minutes. He turned, and his emerald orbs met those of Legolas. There was a tumult of emotion in his eyes, lots of confusion, and a little understanding, as if he finally realised just how old Harry was. Or perhaps, how old Calhoun was. Harry was still only 18. He didn't feel older than worlds. He didn't have memories lasting that long.

He couldn't tell how long it was before they looked away. Or who looked away first. But eventually they were looking anywhere but at each other, and Harry sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head against Cameo's neck and stroking her silky mane. He needed to be alone, to think, and he could easily find out what was said later. He'd already seen the defining moments of 1000s of worlds. He could miss this minor one.

"I'm gonna go take a look around." He said, eyes firmly fixed away from the only elf in the group.

"But my Lord," Eomer cried, "we go to speak with Saruman. Surely wizardry is your domain?"

"Perhaps, but Gandalf holds far more knowledge than I do of the magic in your world. He is strong enough to counter Saruman's power sufficiently. My presence is not necessary here."

"Not necessary," Legolas agreed, resolutely staring at a far off point. Harry felt a twinge of hurt, and sat up straight as Cameo readied herself to move. He turned to leave when Legolas spoke again, "But wanted all the same."

Harry froze, looked at him, looked away, smiled a tiny, tiny smile, then looked him in the eyes. "I won't be gone long. I'll be back soon." Something passed between them, noticed by the others but unidentifiable. The elf nodded. Harry smiled a little wider before digging his heels gently into the Noctis, and then they gently trotted away to explore the ruined Isengard.

He couldn't help but look back once, already quite far away.

Legolas was still watching after him.

"What's there to explore?" Gimli asked gruffly, "Broken machines and moving trees? What's interesting about that? I want to see the wizard, see the resemblance between him Gandalf."

"Besides the beard and hair we share very little resemblance at all Gimli," Gandalf mused." But then, to others there are many similarities between dwarves, and very little differences, so perhaps it is the same with wizards."

"Either way, he is not exploring Isengard. He has left." Legolas almost smiled at the shocked, and some horrified, looks of the people around him. "He said he was going to look around. He never specified where."

"But…he's coming back isn't he?" Pippin asked, a little confused by the turn in events.

"Of course," Aragorn said soothingly. "He would not leave us completely, not now. Have you forgotten the old lore Pippin? Bilbo must have spoke of it, if no one else. He is the Protector of Worlds. He would not abandon us to our fate."

As confident as he sounded, he looked at Gandalf for agreement and the Wizard shrugged.

"He'll return, "Legolas said, smiling slightly. "He said so didn't he?"

And the look in Harry's eyes when he left told Legolas he meant it.

It was many leagues to the house of Tom Bombadil. Through the gap of Rohan, past Rivendell, and finally to Bree. Days it took him, despite the speed of the Noctis, and he when he finally reached the Old Forest that bordered the Shire he was tired and weary and stiff. Dusk was falling quickly, and the air was chill. He'd felt eyes on his back as he'd rode past Bree, and though he knew they couldn't hurt him it made him wary. All was not well in the Shire. But there, waiting at the entrance to the forest, was the man himself.

"My Lord Cal,' he exclaimed happily as Harry stopped before him. "Me and Goldberry have been awaiting you! Come into my forest, it won't harm you, and have supper with my lady and me. I've been expecting for you for quite a while now. You never did turn up when expected!"

"Well," Harry smiled, relaxed by the familiarity he felt whilst with Tom, " It wouldn't do to be too predictable. I heard you speak in rhyme these days Tom? Why the exception for me?"

"Ah, well, my power has dwindled some since last we spoke. I no longer leave my woods, but the darkness within them is growing. More trees are awakening with rotten hearts, and the barrow wights are wakening stronger. The power of my voice has always been enough for me, but it is stronger now in rhyme. Middle Earth weakens my Lord, and so do I. But whilst you walk in my forest, I do not fear. Ever did you have dominion of creatures of the dark."

They walked comfortably through the forest, the trees clearing a path for them and Tom Bombadil singing loudly and free. When they reached Withywindle the river's daughter was waiting at the door, and greeted both with a kiss on the cheek.

"Welcome back my Lord." Goldberry smiled, voice musical and tinkling like water over stones, " Please make yourself at home. Though millennia may have passed our house remains the same."

"Ever was it with the two of you. The world passes by, evolving, changing, but here in the forest you stay the same." Harry said taking a seat at the table. " Yet the forest, too, has changed greatly. Your domain has lessoned Tom."

"As do all great things eventually my boy. But Goldberry and I are happy in our little house in the woods. We have little interest in the world outside, you know that. Any information I have I'm sure you already know. And I am of little use out there."

"I desire nothing from you but good company and some space. Treebeard says hello, by the way. It was he who suggested I come say hello."

"Oh ho, did he now? It is many long, long years since I spoke to the Ents. When the forests joint we spoke often and in those days Goldberry and me would visit the Entwives too. Their leaving was a great loss of the last war, along with the sundering of the forests. But we're happy enough here, in our small forest with only the Barrow wights and Old Man Willow causing mischief."

"But come," Goldberry sang, "Off to bed and early rise."

Harry was far too tired to disagree.

_Legolas walked through the forest, Elf eyes barely able to see the gaps through the trees. His graceful steps, always so quiet, now made him sound like a terrified badger fumbling through the forest. Not even elves can walk quieter than pure silence. He shivered. There was a feel here reminiscent of Fangorn, a malevolent presence among the trees. In the trees. Legolas had spent most of his life under the branches and leaves of Mirkwood, and evil spirits were often found there. He felt less fear than others would, but there was something else, some kind of comfort to be found there. _

_He walked on, endlessly it sometimes seemed, but in time uncounted he entered into a clearing, and spied a dark shape huddled against a tree. Familiar, oh so familiar…_

"_Harry?"_

_The figure looked up with a gasp, eyes wide and scared, face tear stained. _

"_Harry?"_

_He scrambled to his feet and stumbled backwards, putting further distance between himself and the confused elf. _

"_Harry? My love? Why do you turn from me? What is wrong?"_

_Harry stilled, looked at him, inched a little closer. Legolas knew to make no sudden movements. Closer and closer Harry slowly got, until he stood in front of him. Legolas had never realised how small he was. A hand raised to the elf's face, fingers skirting along cheekbones, trailing over lips. "I know you…"_

"_Of course you do Harry."_

"_Harry? Am I… Harry? Calhoun? S'gath? So many names and faces and places and I, I, I don't know who I am or why I am or what I am or"_

_Legolas kissed him, hard, and Harry's arms were round his neck and his hair and his were all over Harry and then they were on the floor and legs around his waist, hands gripping and pulling and teeth and skin and sweat and moans and oh so desperate._

"_Oh god I need you Legolas I…god…Make me someone new?"_

_And as hands descended lower, they woke up in opposite realms._

"It's a strange night to be out alone child. The dark is moving, and this is not where you should be."

Harry opened his eyes, found himself surrounded by the forest, and watched by a goddess. The same green eyes as he, the same red hair as Lily, but inhumanly beautiful, completely flawless. Pale, paler than snow, but glowing somehow, a light from within, as if her skin itself held the moonlight within it. Perfect, weirdly symmetrical. Harry was sure that if he measured her, she'd fit wholly the dimensions given by the Greeks for perfect proportions. Something told him it would hurt to look at her, if he was anything else but a child of the gods.

But he was and she, she was someone he knew, someone he'd once called mother. "Aysel…"

"Hello. Son."

"I'm not your son anymore." Harry said, looking down at his hands.

She lowered herself to sit on the ground before him, a hand reaching out to raise his head to look at her.

"You will always be my son, our son. Nothing will change that, whether you remember it or no. But you should not be here child. The war is many leagues away, as is your love. Why do you linger here?"

"The first battle is over, but the next has not yet started. I've still time to join. But this is the battle of men and dwarves and elves, hobbits and Ents, orc and troll and other such things. I am merely a watcher, a waiter. I do not wish to interfere too much, their victory must be their own."

"Yes, it must, but your presence alone inspires the morale that wins battles. And your elf waits for you forlornly."

"He is not mi-"

"He is yours, as you are his. Deny it as you like child but you know the truth. And he too, will live forever, if an unnatural death does not claim him, so you have a long time to make your mind up. But not forever. Nothing really lasts forever, does it?"

"You do," Harry muttered, " I do."

"But we are outside the rules that define such things. We just are, and we made you in the image of ourselves. Even the Umbrae may perish one day, we are not yet sure. We know only that nothing is infinite but us, and you.

You must find yourself again, darling, but your path starts in Rohan and leads to Gondor. Now go back to sleep and when you wake you'll be there."

Then she held his face delicately in her hands, and kissed him on the forehead. It left a glowing mark and then he fell into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
